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Henry  was  clasping  the  snowy  fingers  of  Anne  Boleyn,  and  gazing 
passionately  at  her,  as  the  Cardinal  approached.  Page  95. 
Frontispiece  Windsor  Castle 


Windsor  Castle 


A Historical  Romance 


By  WM.  HARRISON  AINSWORTH 

Author  of  “THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON,” 
“GUY  FAWKES,”  “JACK  SHEPPARD,” 
etc.,  etc.  ^ jt 


With  Four  Page  Illustrations 
By  GEORGE  CRUIKSHANK 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK 


CONTENTS. 


N 


fX  3 


VOLUME  I. 


ffiooft  tbe  fffrst. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  Of  the  Earl  of  Surrey’s  Solitary  Rambler  in  the 
Home  Park  ; of  the  Vision  Beheld  by  Him  in  the 
Haunted  Dell ; and  of  His  Meeting  with  Morgan 

Fen  wolf,  the  Keeper,  Beneath  Herne’s  Oak 1 

II.  Of  Bryan  Bowntance,  the  Host  of  the  Garter ; — 
of  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch  of  the  Bold  Words  Ut- 
tered by  Mark  Fytton,  the  Butcher,  and  how  He 
was  Cast  into  the  Vault  of  the  Curfew  Tower 13 


III.  Of  the  Grand  Procession  to  Windsor  Castle; — of  the 
Meeting  of  King  Henry  the  Eighth  and  Anne  Bol- 
eyn  at  the  Lower  Gate . — of  their  Entrance  into 


the  Castle ; — and  how  the  Butcher  was  Hanged 

From  the  Curfew  Tower 21 

IV.  How  King  Henry  the  Eighth  Held  a Chapter  of  the 
Garter  ; how  He  Attended  Vespers  and  Matins  in 
St.  George’s  Chapel ; and  how  He  Feasted  with 
the  Knights-Companions  in  St.  George’s  Hall 42 


V.  Of  the  Ghostly  Chase  Beheld  by  the  Earl  of  Surrey 

and  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  in  Windsor  Forest 56 

VI.  How  the  Fair  Geraldine  Bestowed  a Relic  upon  Her 
Lover. — How  Surrey  and  Richmond  Rode  in  the 
Forest  at  Midnight, — and  Where  They  Found  the 


Body  of  Mark  Fytton,  the  Butcher 61 

VII.  How  the  Earl  of  Surrey  and  the  Fair  Geraldine 
Plighted  their  Troth  in  the  Cloisters  of  Saint 

George’s  Chapel. 71 

VIII.  Of  Tristram  Lyndwood,  the  Old  Forester,  and  His 
Granddaughter  Mabel ; of  the  Peril  in  Which  the 
Lady  Anne  Boleyn  was  Placed  During  the  Chase  ; 
and  by  Whom  She  was  Rescued 77 

iii 


9442  76 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

IX.  By  what  Means  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  Obtained  an  In- 
terview with  Anne  Boleyn  ; and  How  the  Earl  of 

Surrey  Saved  Them  From  the  King’s  Anger 87 

X.  Of  the  Mysterious  Disappearance  of  Herne  the 
Hunter  in  the  Lake . 98 


:fiSooft  tbe  Second. 


I.  Of  the  Compact  Between  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  and 

Herne  the  Hunter 105 

II.  In  what  Manner  Wolsey  put  His  Scheme  in  Opera- 
tion  118 

III.  Of  the  Visit  of  the  Two  Guildford  Merchants  to  the 

Forester’s  Hut 127 

IV.  How  Herne  the  Hunter  Showed  the  Earl  of  Surrey 

the  Fair  Geraldine  in  a Vision 136 

V.  What  Befell  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  in  the  Sandstone 

Cave. — And  how  He  Drank  a Maddening  Potion. . 140 

VI.  How  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  Hunted  with  Herne 144 


VII.  How  Wyat  Beheld  Mabel  Lyndwood ; and  how  He 

was  Rowed  by  Morgan  Fen  wolf  upon  the  Lake 148 

VIII.  How  the  King  and  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  were  Assailed 

by  Herne’s  Band  ; and  what  Followed  the  Attack.  153 
IX.  Showing  how  Morgan  Fenwolf  Escaped  from  the 


Garter  Tower 164 

X.  How  Herne  the  Hunter  was  Himself  Hunted 171 


JBook  tbe  ftbird. 


I.  Of  the  Interview  Between  Henry  and  Catherine  of 
Aragon  in  the  Urswick  Chapel ; and  how  it  was 

Interrupted 181 

II.  How  Herne  the  Hunter  Appeared  to  Henry  on  the 

Terrace 197 

III.  How  Mabel  Lyndwood  was  Taken  to  the  Castle  by 

Nicholas  Clamp ; and  how  they  Encountered  Mor- 
gan Fenwolf  by  the  way 200 

IV.  How  Mabel  was  Received  by  the  Party  in  the 

Kitchen  ; — and  of  the  Quarrel  Between  the  two 
Jesters. 206 


CONTENTS. 


V 


VOLUME  II. 

3B00ft  tbC  {Tbirb— (Continued). 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

V.  Of  the  Combat  Between  Will  Sommers  and  Patch; 

and  how  it  Terminated 218 

VI.  The  Legend  of  Herne  the  Hunter 222 

\ VII.  Of  the  Mysterious  Noise  Heard  in  the  Curfew  Tower  236 

VIII.  Showing  the  Vacillations  of  the  King  Between 

Wolsey  and  Anne  Boleyn 240 

IX.  How  Tristram  Lyndwood  was  Interrogated  by  the 

King 246 

X.  Of  the  Brief  Advantage  Gained  by  the  Queen  and 

the  Cardinal 249 

XI.  How  Tristram  Lyndwood  and  Mabel  were  Liberated  257 

XII.  How  Wolsey  was  Disgraced  by  the  King 266 


JSoofc  tbe  ffourtb. 

I.  How  the  Earl  of  Surrey  and  the  Fair  Geraldine  met 
in  King  James's  Bower  in  the  Moat  ; and  how  they 

were  Surprised  by  the  Duke  of  Richmond 281 

II.  How  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  Found  Mabel  in  the  Sand- 
stone Cave ; — and  what  Happened  to  Him  there.  294 

III.  In  what  Manner  Herne  Declared  His  Passion  for 

Mabel t 304 

IV.  How  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  was  Visited  by  Herne  in  the 

Cell 311 

V.  How  Mabel  Escaped  from  the  Cave  with  Sir  Thomas 

Wyat 316 

VI.  Of  the  Desperate  Resolution  Formed  by  Tristram 

and  Fenwolf ; — and  how  the  Train  was  Laid 320 

VII.  How  the  Train  was  Fired ; — and  what  Followed  the 

Explosion. 325 


3Boofc  tbe  fftftb. 

I.  Of  Henry’s  Attachment  to  Jane  Seymour 335 

II.  How  Anne  Boleyn  Received  Proof  of  Henry’s  Pas- 
sion for  Jane  Seymour 342 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

III.  What  Passed  Between  Norris  and  the  Tall  Monk. . . 347 

IV.  Of  the  Secret  Interview  Between  Norris  and  Anne 

Boleyn  ; — and  of  the  Dissimulation  Practised  by 

the  King 351 

Y.  What  happened  at  the  Jousts 357 

YI.  What  Passed  Between  Anne  Boleyn  and  the  Duke 
of  Suffolk  ; — and  how  Herne  the  Hunter  Appeared 

to  Her  in  the  Oratory 366 

YU.  How  Herne  Appeared  to  Henry  in  the  Home  Park. . 371 
VIII.  The  Signal  Gun 374 


;JBoofc  tbc  Sixth. 

I.  Comprising  the  First  Two  Epochs  in  the  History  of 

Windsor  Castle 383 

II.  Comprising  the  Third  Great  Epoch  in  the  History  of 
the  Castle ; — and  Showing  how  the  most  Noble 

Order  of  the  Garter  was  Instituted 392 

III.  Comprising  the  Fourth  Epoch  in  the  History  of  the 
Castle ; and  Showing  how  Saint  George’s  Chapel 

was  Rebuilt  by  King  Edward  the  Fourth 402 

IY.  Containing  the  History  of  the  Castle  from  the  Reign 
of  Charles  the  Second  to  that  of  George  the  Third 
— with  a few  Particulars  Concerning  the  Parks 

and  the  Forest 415 

V.  The  Last  Great  Epoch  in  the  History  of  the  Castle . 420 


Book  tbe  tfirst 


ANNE  BOLEYN. 


< l 


WINDSOR  CASTLE 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  THE  EARL  OF  SURREY’S  SOLITARY  RAMBLE  1 1ST  THE  HOMS 

PARK; OF  THE  VISION"  BEHELD  BY  HIM  IN  THE  HAUNTED 

DELL; — AND  OF  HIS  MEETING  WITH  MORGAN  FENWOLF, 
THE  KEEPER,  BENEATH  HERNE’S  OAK. 

In  the  twentieth  year  of  the  reign  of  the  right  high 
and  puissant  king  Henry  the  Eighth,  namely,  in  1529,  on 
the  twenty -first  of  April,  and  on  one  of  the  loveliest 
evenings  that  ever  fell  on  the  loveliest  district  in  England, 
a fair  youth,  having  somewhat  the  appearance  of  a page, 
was  leaning  over  the  terrace- wall  on  the  north  side  of 
Windsor  Castle,  and  gazing  at  the  magnificent  scene  be- 
fore him.  On  his  right  stretched  the  broad  green  expanse, 
forming  the  Home  Park,  studded  with  noble  trees,  chiefly 
consisting  of  ancient  oaks,  of  which  England  had  already 
learnt  to  be  proud,  thorns  as  old,  or  older  than  the  oaks, 
wide-spreading  beeches,  tall  elms,  and  hollies.  The  dis- 
position of  these  trees  was  picturesque  and  beautiful  in 
the  extreme.  Here,  at  the  end  of  a sweeping  vista,  and 
in  the  midst  of  an  open  space,  covered  with  the  greenest 
sward,  stood  a mighty,  broad-armed  oak,  beneath  whose 
ample  boughs,  though  as  yet  almost  destitute  of  foliage, 
while  the  sod  beneath  them  could  scarcely  boast  a head 
of  fern,  couched  a herd  of  deer ; there,  lay  a thicket  of 

1 


2 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


thorns  skirting  a sand-bank,  burrowed  by  rabbits;  on 
this  hand,  grew  a dense  and  Druid-like  grove,  into  whose 
intricacies  the  slanting  sunbeams  pierced ; on  that,  ex- 
tended a long  glade,  formed  by  a natural  avenue  of  oaks, 
across  which,  at  intervals,  deer  were  passing.  Nor  were 
human  figures  wanting  to  give  life  and  interest  to  the 
scene.  Adown  the  glade  came  two  keepers  of  the  forest, 
having  each  a couple  of  buckhounds  with  them  in  leash, 
whose  baying  sounded  cheerily  amid  the  woods.  Nearer 
the  castle,  and  bending  their  way  towards  it,  marched  a 
party  of  falconers,  with  their  well-trained  birds,  whose 
skill  they  had  been  approving,  upon  their  fists,  their  jesses 
ringing  as  they  moved  along;  while  nearer  still,  and 
almost  at  the  foot  of  the  terrace  wall,  was  a minstrel, 
playing  on  a rebec,  to  which  a keeper,  in  a dress  of  Lin- 
coln green,  with  a bow  over  his  shoulder,  a quiver  of 
arrows  at  his  back,  and  a comely  damsel  under  his  arm, 
was  listening. 

On  the  left,  a view  altogether  different  in  character, 
though  scarcely  less  beautiful,  was  offered  to  the  gaze. 
It  was  formed  by  the  town  of  Windsor,  then  not  a third 
of  its  present  size,  but  incomparably  more  picturesque  in 
appearance,  consisting  almost  entirely  of  a long  straggling 
row  of  houses,  checkered  black  and  white,  with  tall  gables 
and  projecting  stories,  skirting  the  west  and  south  sides 
of  the  castle ; by  the  silver  windings  of  the  river,  trace- 
able for  miles,  and  reflecting  the  glowing  hues  of  the  sky ; 
by  the  venerable  college  of  Eton,  embowered  in  a grove 
of  trees ; and  by  a vast  tract  of  well- wooded  and  well- 
cultivated  country  beyond  it,  interspersed  with  villages, 
churches,  old  halls,  monasteries,  and  abbeys. 

Taking  out  his  tablets,  the  youth,  after  some  reflection, 
traced  a few  lines  upon  them,  and  then,  quitting  the 
parapet,  proceeded  slowly,  and  with  a musing  air,  towards 
the  northwest  angle  of  the  terrace.  He  could  not  be 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


3 


more  than  fifteen,  perhaps  not  so  much,  but  he  was  tall 
and  well-grown,  with  slight,  though  remarkably  well- 
proportioned  limbs ; and  it  might  have  been  safely  pre- 
dicted, that,  when  arrived  at  years  of  maturity,  he  would 
possess  great  personal  vigor.  His  countenance  was  full 
of  thought  and  intelligence ; and  he  had  a broad,  lofty 
brow,  shaded  by  a profusion  of  light-brown  ringlets,  a 
long,  straight,  and  finely-formed  nose,  a full,  sensitive, 
and  well-chiseled  mouth,  and  a pointed  chin.  His  eyes 
were  large,  dark,  and  somewhat  melancholy  in  expression, 
and  his  complexion  possessed  that  rich,  clear,  brown  tint, 
constantly  met  with  in  Italy  or  Spain,  though  but  seldom 
seen  in  a native  of  our  own  colder  clime.  His  dress 
was  rich,  but  somber ; consisting  of  a doublet  of  black 
satin,  worked  with  threads  of  Venetian  gold;  hose  of  the 
same  material,  and  similarly  embroidered ; a shirt  curi- 
ously wrought  with  black  silk,  and  fastened  at  the  collar 
with  black  enameled  clasps;  a cloak  of  black  velvet, 
passmented  with  gold,  and  lined  with  crimson  satin ; a 
flat  black  velvet  cap,  set  with  pearls  and  goldsmith’s 
work,  and  adorned  with  a short  white  plume  ; and  black 
velvet  buskins.  His  arms  were  rapier  and  dagger,  both 
having  gilt  and  graven  handles,  and  sheaths  of  black 
velvet. 

As  he  moved  along,  the  sound  of  voices  chanting 
vespers  arose  from  Saint  George’s  Chapel;  and  while  he 
paused  to  listen  to  the  solemn  strains,  a door  in  that 
part  of  the  castle  used  as  the  king’s  privy-lodgings, 
opened,  and  a person  advanced  towards  him.  The  new- 
comer had  broad,  brown,  martial-looking  features,  dark- 
ened still  more  by  a thick,  coal-black  beard,  clipped  short 
in  the  fashion  of  the  time,  and  a pair  of  enormous  mous- 
tachios.  He  was  accoutered  in  a habergeon,  which 
gleamed  from  beneath  the  folds  of  a russet-colored 
mantle,  and  wore  a steel  cap  in  lieu  of  a bonnet  on  his 


4 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


head,  while  a long  sword  dangled  from  beneath  his  cloak. 
When  within  a few  paces  of  the  youth,  whose  back  was 
towards  him,  and  who  did  not  hear  his  approach,  he 
announced  himself  by  a loud  cough,  that  proved  the 
excellence  of  his  lungs,  and  made  the  old  walls  ring^  again, 
startling  the  jackdaws  roosting  in  the  battlements. 

“ What ! composing  a vesper  hymn,  my  Lord  of  Sur- 
rey ? ” he  cried  with  a laugh,  as  the  other  hastily  thrust 
the  tablets,  which  he  had  hitherto  held  in  his  hand,  into 
his  bosom.  “You  will  rival  Master  Skelton,  the  poet- 
laureate,  and  your  friend  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  too,  ere  long. 
But  will  it  please  your  lordship  to  quit  for  a moment 
the  society  of  the  celestial  Nine,  and  descend  to  earth, 
while  I inform  you  that,  acting  as  your  representative,  I 
have  given  all  needful  directions  for  his  majesty’s  recep- 
tion to-morrow.” 

“ You  have  not  failed,  I trust,  to  give  orders  to  the 
groom  of  the  chambers  for  the  lodging  of  my  fair  cousin, 
Mistress  Anne  Boleyn,  Captain  Bouchier  ? ” inquired  the 
Earl  of  Surrey,  with  a significant  smile. 

“Assuredly  not,  my  lord!  ” replied  the  other,  smiling 
in  his  turn.  “ She  will  be  lodged  as  royally  as  if  she 
were  Queen  of  England.  Indeed,  the  queen’s  own  apart- 
ments are  assigned  her.” 

“It  is  well,”  rejoined  Surrey.  “And  you  have  also 
provided  for  the  reception  of  the  Pope’s  legate,  Cardinal 
Campeggio  ? ” 

Bouchier  bowed. 

“And  for  Cardinal  Wolsey?”  pursued  the  other. 

The  captain  bowed  again. 

“ To  save  your  lordship  the  necessity  of  asking  any 
further  questions,”  he  said ; “ I may  state  briefly  that  I 
have  done  all  as  if  you  had  done  it  yourself.” 

“ Be  a little  more  particular,  captain,  I pray  you,”  said 
Surrey. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


5 


“ Willingly,  my  lord,”  replied  Bouchier.  “In  your 
lordship’s  name,  then,  as  vice-chamberlain,  in  which  char- 
acter I presented  myself,  I summoned  together  the  deans 
and  canons  of  the  College  of  Saint  George,  the  usher  of 
the  black-rod,  the  governor  of  the  alms-knights,  and  the 
whole  of  the  officers  of  the  household,  and  acquainted 
them,  in  a set  speech,  which,  I flatter  myself,  was  quite 
equal  to  any  that  your  lordship,  with  all  your  poeti- 
cal talents,  could  have  delivered,  that  the  king’s  high- 
ness being  at  Hampton  Court,  with  the  two  cardinals, 
Wolsey  and  Campeggio,  debating  the  matter  of  divorce 
from  his  queen,  Catherine  of  Aragon,  proposes  to  hold 
the  grand  feast  of  the  most  noble  order  of  the  Garter,  at 
this  his  castle  of  Windsor,  on  Saint  George’s  day, — that  is 
to  say,  the  day  after  to-morrow, — and  that  it  is  therefore 
his  majesty’s  sovereign  pleasure  that  the  Chapel  of  Saint 
George,  in  the  said  castle,  be  set  forth,  and  adorned  with 
its  richest  furniture ; that  the  high  altar  be  hung  with 
arras  representing  the  patron  saint  of  the  order  on  horse- 
back, and  garnished  with  the  costliest  images  and  orna- 
ments in  gold  and  silver ; that  the  pulpit  be  covered  with 
crimson  damask,  inwrought  with  flowers- de-luces  of  gold, 
porteullices,  and  roses ; that  the  royal  stall  be  canopied 
with  a rich  cloth  of  state,  with  a haut-pas  beneath  it  of  a 
foot  high ; that  the  stalls  of  the  knights-companions  be 
decked  with  cloth  of  tissue,  with  their  scutcheons  set  at 
the  back  ; and  that  all  be  ready  at  the  hour  of  tierce, — 
liord  tertid  vespertind , as  appointed  by  his  majesty’s  own 
statute, — at  which  time  the  eve  of  the  feast  shall  be  held 
to  commence.” 

“ Take  breath,  captain,”  laughed  the  earl. 

“ I have  no  need,”  replied  Bouchier.  “ Furthermore,  I 
delivered  your  lordship’s  warrant  from  the  lord  chamber- 
lain  to  the  usher  of  the  black-rod,  to  make  ready  and 
furnish  Saint  George’s  Hall,  both  for  the  supper  to- 


6 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


morrow  and  the  grand  feast  on  the  following  day  ; and  I 
enjoined  the  dean  and  canons  of  the  college,  the  alms- 
knights,  and  all  the  other  officers  of  the  order,  to  be  in 
readiness  for  the  occasion.  And  now  having  fulfilled  my 
devoir,  or  rather  your  lordship’s,  I am  content  to  resign 
my  post  as  vice-chamberlain,  to  resume  my  ordinary  one, 
that  of  your  simple  gentleman,  and  to  attend  you  back  to 
Hampton  Court,  whenever  it  shall  please  you  to  set 
forth.” 

“ And  that  will  not  be  for  an  hour  at  the  least,”  re- 
plied the  earl ; “ for  I intend  to  take  a solitary  ramble  in 
the  Home  Park.” 

“ What ! to  seek  inspiration  for  a song, — or  to  meditate 
upon  the  charms  of  the  fair  Geraldine,  eh ! my  lord  ? ” 
rejoined  Bouchier.  “ But  I will  not  question  you  too 
shrewdly.  Only  let  me  caution  you  against  going  near 
Heme’s  Oak.  It  is  said  that  the  demon  hunter  walks  at 
nightfall,  and  scares,  if  he  does  not  injure,  all  those  who 
cross  his  path.  At  curfew  toll  I must  quit  the  castle, 
and  will  then,  with  your  attendants,  proceed  to  the  Garter, 
in  Thames  Street,  where  I will  await  your  arrival.  If 
we  reach  Hampton  Court  by  midnight,  it  will  be  time 
enough,  and  as  the  moon  will  rise  in  an  hour,  we  shall 
have  a pleasant  ride.” 

“ Commend  me  to  Bryan  Bowntance,  the  worthy  host  of 
the  Garter,”  said  the  earl;  “and  bid  him  provide  you 
with  a bottle  of  his  best  sack  in  which  to  drink  my  health.” 

“Fear  me  not,”  replied  the  other.  “ And  I pray  your 
lordship  not  to  neglect  my  caution  respecting  Herne  the 
hunter.  In  sober  sooth,  I have  heard  strange  stories  of 
his  appearance  of  late,  and  should  not  care  to  go  near  the 
tree  after  dark.” 

The  earl  laughed  somewhat  skeptically,  and  the  captain 
reiterating  his  caution,  they  separated  ; — Bouchier  return- 
ing the  way  he  came,  and  Surrey  proceeding  towards  a 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


7 


small  drawbridge  crossing  the  ditch  on  the  eastern  side 
of  the  castle,  and  forming  a means  of  communication  with 
the  Little  Park.  He  was  challenged  by  a sentinel  at  the 
drawbridge,  but  on  giving  the  password,  he  was  allowed 
to  cross  it,  and  to  pass  through  a gate  on  the  further  side 
opening  upon  the  park. 

Brushing  the  soft  and  dewy  turf,  with  a footstep  al- 
most as  light  and  bounding  as  that  of  a fawn,  he  speeded 
on  for  more  than  a quarter  of  a mile,  when  he  reached  a 
noble  beech-tree,  standing  at  the  end  of  a clump  of  timber. 
A number  of  rabbits  were  feeding  beneath  it,  but  at  his 
approach  they  instantly  plunged  into  their  burrows. 

Here  he  halted  to  look  at  the  castle.  The  sun  had  sunk 
behind  it,  dilating  its  massive  keep  to  almost  its  present 
height,  and  tingeing  the  summits  of  the  whole  line  of 
ramparts  and  towers,  since  rebuilt  and  known  as  the 
Brunswick  Tower,  the  Chester  Tower,  the  Clarence  Tower, 
and  the  Victoria  Tower,  with  rosy  luster. 

Flinging  himself  at  the  foot  of  the  beech-tree,  the 
youthful  earl  indulged  his  poetical  reveries  for  a short 
time,  and  then  rising,  retraced  his  steps,  and  in  a few 
minutes  the  whole  of  the  south  side  of  the  castle  lay  be- 
fore him.  The  view  comprehended  the  two  fortifica- 
tions recently  removed  to  make  way  for  the  York  and 
Lancaster  towers,  between  which  stood  a gate  ap- 
proached by  a drawbridge ; the  Earl  Marshal’s  Tower,  now 
styled,  from  the  monarch  in  whose  reign  it  was  erected, 
Edward  the  Third’s  Tower;  the  Black-rod’s  lodgings; 
the  Lieutenant’s — now  Henry  the  Third’s  Tower ; the 
line  of  embattled  walls,  constituting  the  lodgings  of  the 
Alms-Knights;  the  tower  tenanted  by  the  governor  of 
that  body,  and  still  allotted  to  the  same  officer ; Henry 
the  Eighth’s  Gateway ; and  the  Chancellor  of  the  Garter’s 
Tower, — the  latter  terminating  the  line  of  building.  A 
few  rosy  beams  tipped  the  pinnacles  of  Saint  George’s 


8 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Chapel,  seen  behind  the  towers  above  mentioned,  with 
fire : but  with  this  exception,  the  whole  of  the  mighty 
fabric  looked  cold  and  gray. 

At  this  juncture,  the  upper  gate  was  opened,  and  Cap- 
tain Bouchier  and  his  attendants  issued  from  it,  and 
passed  over  the  drawbridge.  The  curfew  bell  then  tolled  ; 
the  drawbridge  was  raised ; the  horsemen  disappeared  ; 
and  no  sound  reached  the  listener’s  ear,  except  the 
measured  tread  of  the  sentinels  on  the  ramparts,  audible 
in  the  profound  stillness. 

The  youthful  earl  made  no  attempt  to  join  his  followers, 
but  having  gazed  on  the  ancient  pile  before  him,  till  its 
battlements  and  towers  grew  dim  in  the  twilight,  he 
struck  into  a footpath  leading  across  the  park,  towards 
Datchet,  and  pursued  it  until  it  brought  him  near  a dell 
filled  with  thorns,  hollies,  and  underwood,  and  overhung 
by  mighty  oaks,  into  which  he  unhesitatingly  plunged, 
and  soon  gained  the  deepest  part  of  it.  Here,  owing  to 
the  thickness  of  the  hollies,  and  the  projecting  arms  of 
other  large  overhanging  timber,  added  to  the  uncertain 
light  above,  the  gloom  was  almost  impervious,  and  he 
could  scarcely  see  a yard  before  him.  Still  he  pressed  on 
unhesitatingly,  and  with  a sort  of  pleasurable  sensation  at 
the  difficulties  he  was  encountering.  Suddenly,  however, 
he  was  startled  by  a blue  phosphoric  light  streaming 
through  the  bushes  on  the  left,  and,  looking  up,  he  be- 
held at  the  foot  of  an  enormous  oak,  whose  giant  roots 
protruded  like  twisted  snakes  from  the  bank,  a wild, 
spectral-looking  object,  possessing  some  slight  resem- 
blance to  humanity,  and  habited,  so  far  as  it  could  be 
determined,  in  the  skins  of  deer,  strangely  disposed  about 
its  gaunt  and  tawny- colored  limbs.  On  its  head  was 
seen  a sort  of  helmet,  formed  of  the  skull  of  a stag,  from 
which  branched  a large  pair  of  antlers  ; from  its  left  arm 
hung  a heavy  and  rusty-looking  chain,  in  the  links  of 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


9 


which  burnt  the  phosphoric  fire  before  mentioned ; while 
on  its  right  wrist  was  perched  a large  horned  owl,  with 
feathers  erected,  and  red  staring  eyes. 

Impressed  with  the  superstitious  feelings  common  to 
the  age,  the  young  earl,  fully  believing  he  was  in  the 
presence  of  a supernatural  being,  could  scarcely,  despite  his 
courageous  nature,  which  no  ordinary  matter  would  have 
shaken,  repress  a cry.  Crossing  himself,  he  repeated, 
with  great  fervency,  a prayer  against  evil  spirits,  and  as 
he  uttered  it,  the  light  was  extinguished,  and  the  spectral 
figure  vanished.  The  clanking  of  the  chain  was  heard, 
succeeded  by  the  hooting  of  the  owl ; then  came  a horrible 
burst  of  laughter ; then  a fearful  wail ; and  all  was 
silent. 

Up  to  this  moment,  the  young  earl  had  stood  still,  as  if 
spellbound ; but  being  now  convinced  that  the  spirit  had 
fled,  he  pressed  forward,  and,  ere  many  seconds,  emerged 
from  the  brake.  The  full  moon  was  rising,  as  he  issued 
forth,  and  illuminating  the  glades  and  vista,  and  the  calm- 
ness and  beauty  of  all  around  seemed  at  total  variance 
with  the  fearful  vision  he  had  just  witnessed.  Throwing 
a shuddering  glance  at  the  haunted  dell,  he  was  about  to 
hurry  towards  the  castle,  when  a large  lightning-scathed 
and  solitary  oak,  standing  at  a little  distance  from  him, 
attracted  his  attention. 

This  was  the  very  tree  connected  with  the  wild  legend 
of  Herne  the  hunter,  which  Captain  Bouchier  had  warned 
him  not  to  approach,  and  he  now  forcibly  recalled  the 
caution.  Beneath  it  he  perceived  a figure,  which  he  at 
first  took  for  that  of  the  spectral  hunter ; but  his  fears 
were  relieved  by  a shout  from  the  person,  who  at  the  same 
moment  appeared  to  catch  sight  of  him. 

Satisfied  that,  in  the  present  instance,  he  had  to  do  with 
a being  of  this  world,  Surrey  ran  towards  the  tree,  and 
on  approaching  it  perceived  that  the  object  of  his  alarm 


10 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


was  a young  man,  of  yery  athletic  proportions,  and  evi- 
dently, from  his  garb,  a keeper  of  the  forest. 

He  was  habited  in  a jerkin  of  Lincoln-green  cloth,  with 
the  royal  badge  woven  in  silver  on  the  breast,  and  his 
head  was  protected  by  a flat  green  cloth  cap,  ornamented 
with  a pheasant’s^ail.  Under  his  right  arm  he  carried  a 
crossbow ; a long,  silver-tipped  horn  was  slung  in  his 
baldric  ; and  he  was  armed  with  a short  hanger,  or  wood- 
knife.  His  features  were  harsh  and  prominent ; and  he 
had  black  beetling  brows,  a large  coarse  mouth,  and  dark 
eyes,  lighted  up  with  a very  sinister  and  malignant  ex- 
pression. 

He  was  attended  by  a large,  savage- looking  stag-hound, 
whom  he  addressed  as  Bawsey,  and  whose  fierceness  had 
to  be  restrained  as  Surrey  approached. 

“ Have  you  seen  anything  ? ” he  demanded  of  the  earl. 

“ I have  seen  Herne  the  hunter  himself,  or  the  fiend 
in  his  likeness,”  replied  Surrey. 

And  he  briefly  related  the  vision  he  had  beheld. 

44  Ay,  ay,  you  have  seen  the  demon  hunter,  no  doubt,” 
replied  the  keeper,  at  the  close  of  the  recital.  “ I neither 
saw  the  light,  nor  heard  the  laughter  nor  the  wailing  cry 
you  speak  of;  but  Bawsey  crouched  at  my  feet,  and 
whined,  and  I knew  some  evil  thing  was  at  hand.  Heaven 
shield  us  ! ” he  exclaimed,  as  the  hound  crouched  at  his 
feet,  and  directed  her  gaze  towards  the  oak,  uttering  a 
low,  ominous  whine.  “ She  is  at  the  same  trick  again.” 

The  earl  glanced  in  the  same  direction,  and  half  ex- 
pected to  see  the  knotted  trunk  of  the  tree  burst  open  and 
disclose  the  figure  of  the  spectral  hunter.  But  nothing 
was  visible — at  least  to  him,  though  it  would  seem,  from 
the  shaking  limbs,  fixed  eyes,  and  ghastly  visage  of  the 
keeper,  that  some  appalling  object  was  presented  to  his 
gaze. 

44  Do  you  not  see  him  ? ” cried  the  latter,  at  length,  in 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  11 

thrilling  accents — “ He  is  circling  the  tree,  and  blasting 
it.  There  ! he  passes  us  now — do  you  not  see  him  ? ” 

“ No,”  replied  Surrey ; “ hut  do  not  let  us  tarry  here 
longer.” 

So  saying,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  keeper’s  arm.  The 
touch  seemed  to  rouse  him  to  exertion.  He  uttered  a 
fearful  cry,  and  set  off  at  a quick  pace  along  the  park, 
followed  by  Bawsey,  with  her  tail  between  her  legs.  The 
earl  kept  up  with  him,  and  neither  halted  till  they  had 
left  the  wizard  oak  at  a considerable  distance  behind 
them. 

“ And  so  you  did  not  see  him  ? ” said  the  keeper,  in  a 
tone  of  exhaustion,  as  he  wiped  the  thick  drops  from  his 
brow. 

“ I did  not,”  replied  Surrey. 

“ That  is  passing  strange,”  rejoined  the  other.  “ I 
myself  have  seen  him  before,  but  never  as  he  appeared 
to-night.” 

“ You  are  a keeper  of  the  forest,  I presume,  friend?” 
said  Surrey.  “ How  are  you  named  ? ” 

“ I am  called  Morgan  Fenwolf,”  replied  the  keeper ; 
“ and  you?  ” 

“ I am  the  Earl  of  Surrey,”  returned  the  young  noble. 

“ What  ? ” exclaimed  Fenwolf,  making  a reverence ; 
“the  son  to  his  grace  of  Norfolk?  ” 

The  earl  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

“ Why  then  you  must  be  the  young  nobleman  whom  I 
used  to  see  so  often  with  the  king’s  son,  the  Duke  of 
Richmond,  three  or  four  years  ago,  at  the  castle  ? ” re- 
joined Fenwolf.  “You  are  altogether  grown  out  of  my 
recollection.” 

“ Not  unlikely,”  returned  the  earl.  “I  have  been  at 
Oxford,  and  have  only  just  completed  my  studies.  This 
is  the  first  time  I have  been  at  Windsor  since  the  period 
you  mention.” 


12 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ I have  heard  that  the  Duke  of  Richmond  was  at 
Oxford,  likewise,”  observed  Fenwolf. 

« We  were  at  Cardinal  College  together,”  replied  Sur- 
rey. “ But  the  duke’s  term  was  completed  before  mine. 
Fie  is  my  senior  by  three  years.” 

“ I suppose  your  lordship  is  returning  to  the  castle?  ” 
said  Fenwolf. 

“ No,”  replied  Surrey.  “ My  attendants  are  waiting 
for  me  at  the  Garter,  and  if  you  will  accompany  me 
thither,  I will  bestow  a cup  of  good  ale  upon  you  to 
recruit  you  after  the  fright  you  have  undergone.” 

Fenwolf  signified  his  grateful  acquiescence,  and  they 
walked  on  in  silence,  for  the  earl  could  not  help  dwelling 
upon  the  vision  he  had  witnessed,  and  his  companion 
appeared  equally  abstracted. 

In  this  sort,  they  descended  the  hill  near  Henry  the 
Eighth’s  Gate,  and  entered  Thames  Street. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE, 


13 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF  BRYAN  BOWNTANCE,  THE  HOST  OF  THE  GARTER  ; — OF 

THE  DUKE  OF  SHOREDITCH ; — OF  THE  BOLD  WORDS  UT- 
TERED BY  MARK  FYTTON,  THE  BUTCHER,  AND  HOW  HE 

WAS  CAST  INTO  THE  VAULT  OF  THE  CURFEW  TOWER. 

Turning  off  on  the  right,  the  earl  and  his  companion 
continued  to  descend  the  hill,  until  they  came  in  sight  of 
the  Garter, — a snug  little  hostel,  situated  immediately 
beneath  the  Curfew  Tower. 

Before  the  porch  were  grouped  the  earl’s  attendants, 
most  of  whom  had  dismounted,  and  were  holding  their 
steeds  by  the  bridles.  At  this  juncture,  the  door  of  the 
hostel  opened,  and  a fat,  jolly-looking  personage,  with  a 
bald  head,  and  bushy  gray  beard,  and  clad  in  a brown 
serge  doublet,  and  hose  to  match,  issued  forth,  bearing  a 
foaming  jug  of  ale,  and  a horn  cup.  His  appearance  was 
welcomed  by  a joyful  shout  from  the  attendants. 

“ Come,  my  masters ! ” he  cried,  filling  the  horn — “ here 
is  a cup  of  stout  Windsor  ale,  in  the  which  to  drink  the 
health  of  our  jolly  monarch,  bluff  King  Hal;  and  there’s 
no  harm,  I trust,  in  calling  him  so.” 

“ Marry,  is  there  not,  mine  host,”  cried  the  foremost 
attendant.  “ I spoke  of  him  as  such  in  his  own  hearing 
not  long  ago,  and  he  laughed  at  me  in  right  merry  sort. 
I love  the  royal  bully,  and  will  drink  his  health  gladly, 
and  Mistress  Anne  Boleyn’s  to  boot.” 

And  he  emptied  the  horn. 

“They  tell  me  Mistress  Anne  Boleyn  is  coming  to 
Windsor  with  the  king  and  the  knights-companions  to- 
morrow— is  it  so  ? ” asked  the  host,  again  filling  the  horn, 
and  handing  it  to  another  attendant. 


u 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


The  person  addressed  nodded,  but  he  was  too  much  en- 
grossed by  the  horn  to  speak. 

“ Then  there  will  be  rare  doings  in  the  castle,”  chuckled 
the  host ; “ and  many  a lusty  pot  will  be  drained  at  the 
Garter.  Alack  a day ! how  times  are  changed  since  I, 
Bryan  Bowntance,  first  stepped  into  my  father’s  shoes, 
and  became  host  of  the  Garter.  It  was  in  1501 — twenty- 
eight  years  ago — when  King  Henry  the  Seventh,  of  blessed 
memory,  ruled  the  land,  and  when  his  elder  son,  Prince 
Arthur,  was  alive  likewise.  In  that  year,  the  young 
prince  espoused  Catherine  of  Aragon,  our  present  queen, 
and  soon  afterwards  died ; whereupon  the  old  king,  not 
liking — for  he  loved  his  treasure  better  than  his  own 
flesh — to  part  with  her  dowry,  gave  her  to  his  second  son, 
Henry,  our  gracious  sovereign,  whom  God  preserve ! 
Folks  said  then  the  match  wouldn’t  come  to  good  ; and 
now  we  find  they  spoke  the  truth,  for  it  is  likely  to  end  in 
a divorce.” 

“Not  so  loud,  mine  host!”  cried  the  foremost  attend- 
ant ; “ here  comes  our  young  master,  the  Earl  of  Surrey.” 

“Well,  I care  not,”  replied  the  host,  bluffly.  “I’ve 
spoken  no  treason.  I love  my  king ; and  if  he  wishes  to 
have  a divorce,  I hope  his  holiness  the  pope  will  grant 
him  one,  that’s  all.” 

As  he  said  this,  a loud  noise  was  heard  within  the  hos- 
tel, and  a man  was  so  suddenly  and  so  forcibly  driven 
forth,  that  he  almost  knocked  down  Bryan  Bowntance, 
who  was  rushing  in  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  The 
person  thus  ejected,  who  was  a powerfully-built  young 
man,  in  a leathern  doublet,  with  his  muscular  arms  bared 
to  the  shoulder,  turned  his  rage  upon  the  host,  and  seized 
him  by  the  throat  with  a gripe  that  threatened  him  with 
strangulation.  Indeed,  but  for  the  intervention  of  the 
earl’s  attendants,  who  rushed  to  his  assistance,  such  might 
have  been  his  fate.  As  soon  as  he  was  liberated,  Bryan 


WINDSOK  CASTLE. 


15 


cried,  in  a voice  of  mingled  rage  and  surprise,  to  his  as- 
sailant— “ Why,  what’s  the  matter,  Mark  Fytton  ? — are 
you  gone  mad,  or  do  you  mistake  me  for  a sheep  or  a bul- 
lock, that  you  attack  me  in  this  fashion  ? My  strong  ale 
must  have  got  into  your  addle  pate  with  a vengeance.” 

“ The  knave  has  been  speaking  treason  of  the  king’s 
highness,”  said  a tall  man,  whose  doublet  and  hose  of  the 
finest  green  cloth,  as  well  as  the  bow  and  quiver  full  of 
arrows  at  his  back,  proclaimed  him  an  archer — “and 
therefore  we  turned  him  out ! ” 

“ And  you  did  well,  Captain  Barlow,”  cried  the  host. 

“ Call  me,  rather,  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch,”  rejoined  the 
tall  archer ; “ for  since  his  majesty  conferred  the  title  upon 
me,  though  it  were  but  in  jest,  when  I won  this  silver 
bugle,  I shall  ever  claim  it.  I am  always  designated  by 
my  neighbors  in  Shoreditch  as  his  grace ; and  I require 
the  same  attention  at  your  hands.  To-morrow  I shall 
have  my  comrades,  the  Marquises  of  Clerkenwell,  Isling- 
ton, Hogsden,  Pancras,  and  Paddington,  with  me,  and 
then  you  will  see  the  gallant  figure  we  shall  cut.” 

“ I crave  your  grace’s  pardon  for  my  want  of  respect,” 
replied  the  host.  “ I am  not  ignorant  of  the  distinction 
conferred  upon  you  at  the  last  match  at  the  castle-butts 
by  the  king.  But  to  the  matter  in  hand.  What  treason 
hath  Mark  Fytton,  the  butcher,  been  talking  ? ” 

“ I care  not  to  repeat  his  words,  mine  host,”  replied  the 
duke ; “ but  he  hath  spoken  in  unbecoming  terms  of  his 
highness  and  Mistress  Anne  Boleyn.” 

“ He  means  not  what  he  says,”  rejoined  the  host.  “ He 
is  a loyal  subject  of  the  king ; but  he  is  apt  to  get  quarrel- 
some over  his  cups.” 

“ Well  said,  honest  Bryan,”  cried  the  duke ; “ you  have 
one  quality  of  a good  landlord — that  of  a peacemaker. 
Give  the  knave  a cup  of  ale,  and  let  him  wash  down  his 
foul  words  in  a health  to  the  king,  wishing  him  a speedy 


16 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


divorce  and  a new  queen,  and  he  shall  then  sit  among  us 
again.” 

“ I do  not  desire  to  sit  with  you,  you  self-dubbed  duke,” 
rejoined  Mark  ; “ but  if  you  will  doff  your  fine  jerkin,  and 
stand  up  with  me  on  the  green,  I will  give  you  cause  to 
remember  laying  hands  on  me.” 

“Well  challenged,  bold  butcher  ! ” cried  one  of  Surrey’s 
attendants.  “ You  shall  be  made  a duke  yourself.” 

“ Or  a cardinal,”  cried  Mark.  “ I should  not  be  the 
first  of  my  brethren  who  has  met  with  such  preferment.” 

“He  derides  the  church  in  the  person  of  Cardinal 
Wolsey ! ” cried  the  duke.  “He  is  a blasphemer  as  well 
as  traitor^” 

“ Drink  the  king’s  health  in  a full  cup,  Mark,”  inter- 
posed the  host,  anxious  to  set  matters  right,  “ and  keep 
your  mischievous  tongue  between  your  teeth.” 

“ Beshrew  me  if  I drink  the  king’s  health,  or  that  of 
his  minion,  Anne  Boleyn ! ” cried  Mark,  boldly.  “ But  I 
will  tell  you  what  I will  drink.  I will  drink  the  health 
of  King  Henry’s  lawful  consort,  Catherine  of  Aragon; 
and  I will  add  to  it  a wish,  that  the  pope  may  forge  her 
marriage  chains  to  her  royal  husband  faster  than  ever.” 

“ A foolish  wish,”  cried  Bryan.  “ Why,  Mark,  you  are 
clean  crazed ! ” 

“ It  is  the  king  who  is  crazed,  not  me ! ” cried  Mark. 
“ He  would  sacrifice  his  rightful  consort  to  his  unlawful 
passion ; and  you,  base  hirelings,  support  the  tyrant  in 
his  wrongful  conduct ! ” 

“ Saints  protect  us  ! ” exclaimed  Bryan.  “ Why  this  is 
flat  treason.  Mark,  I can  no  longer  uphold  you.” 

“ Not  if  you  do  not  desire  to  share  his  prison,  mine 
host,”  cried  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch.  “You  have  all 
heard  him  call  the  king  a tyrant.  Seize  him,  my  mas- 
ters ! ” 

“Let  them  lay  hands  upon  me,  if  they  dare!”  cried 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


17 


the  butcher,  resolutely.  “ I have  felled  an  ox  with  a blow 
of  my  fist  before  this,  and  I promise  you  I will  show  them 
no  better  treatment.” 

Awed  by  Mark’s  determined  manner,  the  bystanders 
kept  aloof. 

“ I command  you,  in  the  king’s  name,  to  seize  him  !” 
roared  Shoreditch.  “ If  he  offers  resistance,  he  will  as- 
suredly be  hanged.” 

“ No  one  shall  touch  me  ! ” cried  Mark,  fiercely. 

“ That  remains  to  be  seen,”  said  the  foremost  of  the 
Earl  of  Surrey’s  attendants.  “ Yield,  fellow ! ” 

“ Never!”  replied  Mark;  “and  I warn  you  to  keep 
off.” 

The  attendant,  however,  advanced ; but  before  he  could 
lay  hands  on  the  butcher,  he  received  a blow  from  his  ox- 
like fist  that  sent  him  reeling  backwards  for  several  paces, 
and  finally  stretched  him  at  full  length  upon  the  ground. 
His  companions  drew  their  swords,  and  would  have  in- 
stantly fallen  upon  the  sturdy  offender,  if  Morgan  Fen- 
wolf,  who,  with  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  was  standing  among 
the  spectators,  had  not  rushed  forward,  and,  closing  with 
Mark  before  the  latter  could  strike  a blow,  grappled  with 
him,  and  held  him  fast  till  he  was  secured,  and  his  arms 
tied  behind  him. 

“ And  so  it  is  you,  Morgan  Fenwolf,  who  have  served 
me  this  ill  turn,  eh  ? ” cried  the  butcher,  regarding  him 
fiercely.  “ I now  believe  all  I have  heard  of  you.” 

“What  have  you  heard  of  him?”  asked  Surrey,  ad- 
vancing. 

“ That  he  has  dealings  with  the  fiend, — with  Herne  the 
hunter,”  replied  Mark.  “ If  I am  hanged  for  a traitor, 
he  ought  to  be  burnt  for  a wizard.” 

“Heed  not  what  the  villain  says,  my  good  fellow,” 
said  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch  ; “ you  have  captured  him 
bravely,  and  I will  take  care  your  conduct  is  duly  reported 


18 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


to  his  majesty.  To  the  castle  with  him  ! To  the  castle  ! 
He  will  lodge  to-night  in  the  deepest  dungeon  of  yon  for- 
tification,” pointing  to  the  Curfew  Tower  above  them, 
“ there  to  await  the  king’s  judgment ; and  to-morrow  night 
it  will  be  well  for  him  if  he  is  not  swinging  from  the 
gibbet  near  the  bridge.  Bring  him  along  ! ” 

And  followed  by  Morgan  Fenwolf  and  the  others,  with 
the  prisoner,  he  strode  up  the  hill. 

Long  before  this,  Captain  Bouchier  had  issued  from  the 
hostel,  and  joined  the  earl,  and  they  walked  together  after 
the  crowd.  In  a few  minutes,  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch 
reached  Henry  the  Eighth’s  Gate,  where  he  shouted  to  a 
sentinel,  and  told  him  what  had  occurred.  After  some  de- 
lay, a wicket  in  the  gate  was  opened,  and  the  chief  persons 
of  the  party  were  allowed  to  pass  through  it,  with  the 
prisoner,  who  was  assigned  to  the  custody  of  a couple  of 
arquebusiers. 

By  this  time  an  officer  had  arrived,  and  it  was  agreed, 
at  the  suggestion  of  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch,  to  take  the 
offender  to  the  Curfew  Tower.  Accordingly,  they  crossed 
the  lower  ward,  and  passing  beneath  an  archway  near  the 
semicircular  range  of  habitations  allotted  to  the  petty 
canons,  traversed  the  space  before  the  west  end  of  St. 
George’s  Chapel,  and  descending  a short  flight  of  stone 
steps  at  the  left,  and  threading  a narrow  passage,  pres- 
ently arrived  at  the  arched  entrance  in  the  Curfew 
Tower,  whose  hoary  walls  shone  brightly  in  the  moon- 
light. 

They  had  to  knock  for  some  time  against  the  stout  oak 
door,  before  any  notice  was  taken  of  the  summons.  At 
length,  an  old  man,  who  acted  as  bellringer,  thrust  his 
head  out  of  one  of  the  narrow  pointed  windows  above,  and 
demanded  their  business.  Satisfied  with  the  reply,  he 
descended,  and  opening  the  door,  admitted  them  into  a 
lofty  chamber,  the  roof  of  which  was  composed  of  stout 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


19 


planks,  crossed  by  heavy  oaken  rafters,  and  supported  by 
beams  of  the  same  material.  On  the  left,  a steep,  ladder- 
like flight  of  wooden  steps  led  to  an  upper  room ; and  from 
a hole  in  the  roof,  descended  a bell-rope,  which  was 
fastened  to  one  of  the  beams,  showing  the  use  to  which 
the  chamber  was  put. 

Some  further  consultation  was  now  held  among  the 
party  as  to  the  propriety  of  leaving  the  prisoner  in  this 
chamber,  under  the  guard  of  the  arquebusiers  ; but  it  was 
at  last  decided  against  doing  so,  and  the  old  bellringer 
being  called  upon  for  the  keys  of  the  dungeon  beneath, 
he  speedily  produced  them.  They  then  went  forth  ; and 
descending  a flight  of  stone  steps  on  the  left,  came  to  a 
low,  strong  door,  which  they  unlocked,  and  obtained  ad- 
mission to  a large  octangular  chamber  with  a vaulted 
roof,  and  deep  embrasures  terminated  by  narrow  loop- 
holes. The  light  of  a lamp  carried  by  the  bellringer 
showed  the  dreary  extent  of  the  vault,  and  the  enormous 
thickness  of  its  walls. 

“ A night’s  solitary  confinement  in  this  place  will  be  of 
infinite  service  to  our  prisoner,”  said  the  Duke  of  Shore- 
ditch, gazing  around.  “ I’ll  be  sworn  he  is  now  ready  to 
bite  off  the  foolish  tongue  that  has  brought  him  to  such  a 
pass.” 

The  butcher  made  no  reply ; but  being  released  by  the 
arquebusiers,  sat  down  upon  a bench  that  constituted  the 
sole  furniture  of  the  vault. 

“ Shall  I leave  him  the  lamp  ? ” asked  the  bellringer. 
“He  may  beguile  the  time  by  reading  the  names  of 
former  prisoners  scratched  on  the  walls  and  in  the  em- 
brasures.” 

“ No ; he  shall  not  even  have  that  miserable  satisfac- 
tion,” returned  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch.  “ He  shall  be 
left  in  the  darkness  to  his  own  bad  and  bitter  thoughts.” 

With  this,  the  party  withdrew,  and  the  door  was 


20 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


fastened  upon  the  prisoner.  An  arquebusier  was  stationed 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps ; and  the  Earl  of  Surrey  and 
Captain  Bouchier  having  fully  satisfied  their  curiosity, 
shaped  their  course  towards  the  castle  gate.  On  their 
way  thither,  the  earl  looked  about  for  Morgan  Fenwolf, 
but  could  nowhere  discern  him.  He  then  passed  through 
the  wicket  with  Bouchier,  and  proceeding  to  the  Garter, 
they  mounted  their  steeds,  and  galloped  off  towards 
Datchet,  and  thence  to  Staines  and  Hampton  Court. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


21 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  GRAND  PROCESSION  TO  WINDSOR  CASTLE  ; OF  THE 

MEETING  OF  KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH  AND  ANNE  BOLEYN 

AT  THE  LOWER  GATE  ; OF  THEIR  ENTRANCE  INTO  THE 

CASTLE  ; AND  HOW  THE  BUTCHER  WAS  HANGED  FROM  THE 

. CURFEW  TOWER. 

A joyous  day  was  it  for  Windsor,  and  great  were  the 
preparations  made  by  its  loyal  inhabitants  for  a suitable 
reception  to  their  sovereign.  At  an  early  hour,  the  town 
was  thronged  with  strangers  from  the  neighboring  vil- 
lages, and  later  on,  crowds  began  to  arrive  from  Lon- 
don ; some  having  come  along  the  highway  on  horseback, 
and  others  having  rowed  in  various  craft  up  the  river. 
All  were  clad  in  holiday  attire,  and  the  streets  presented 
an  appearance  of  unwonted  bustle  and  gaiety.  The  may- 
pole  in  Bachelors’  Acre  was  hung  with  flowers.  Several 
booths,  with  flags  floating  above  them,  were  erected  in 
the  same  place,  where  ale,  mead,  and  hypocras,  together 
with  cold  pasties,  hams,  capons  and  large  joints  of  beef 
and  mutton,  might  be  obtained.  Mummers  and  minstrels 
were  in  attendance,  and  every  kind  of  diversion  was 
going  forward.  Here  was  one  party  wrestling;  there 
another  casting  the  bar;  on  this  side,  a set  of  rustics 
were  dancing  a merry  round  with  a bevy  of  buxom 
Berkshire  lasses  ; on  that,  stood  a fourth  group  listening 
to  a youth  playing  on  the  recorders.  At  one  end  of  the 
Acre  large  fires  were  lighted,  before  which  two  whole 
oxen  were  roasting,  provided  in  honor  of  the  occasion, 
by  the  mayor  and  burgesses  of  the  town ; at  the  other, 
butts  were  set,  against  which  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch, 


22 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


and  his  companions,  tlie  five  marquesses,  were  practising. 
The  duke  himself  shot  admirably,  and  never  failed  to  hit 
the  bull’s-eye ; but  the  great  feat  of  the  day  was  per- 
formed by  Morgan  Fen  wolf,  who  thrice  split  the  duke’s 
shafts  as  they  stuck  in  the  mark. 

“Well  done!”  cried  the  duke,  as  he  witnessed  the 
achievement ; “ why,  you  shoot  as  bravely  as  Herne 
the  hunter.  Old  wives  tell  us  he  used  to  split  the  arrows 
of  his  comrades  in  that  fashion.” 

“ He  must  have  learnt  the  trick  from  Herne  himself  in 
the  forest,”  cried  one  of  the  bystanders. 

Morgan  Fenwolf  looked  fiercely  round  in  search  of  the 
speaker,  but  could  not  discern  him.  He,  however,  shot 
no  more,  and  refusing  a cup  of  hypocras  offered  him  by 
Shoreditch,  disappeared  among  the  crowd. 

Soon  after  this,  the  booths  were  emptied,  the  bar  thrown 
down,  the  may-pole  and  the  butts  deserted,  and  the  whole 
of  Bachelors’  Acre  cleared  of  its  occupants — except  those 
who  were  compelled  to  attend  to  the  mighty  spits  turn- 
ing before  the  fires, — by  the  loud  discharge  of  ordnance 
from  the  castle  gates,  accompanied  by  the  ringing  of 
bells,  announcing  that  the  mayor  and  burgesses  of  Wind- 
sor, together  with  the  officers  of  the  order  of  the  Garter, 
were  setting  forth  to  Datchet  Bridge,  to  meet  the  royal 
procession. 

Those  who  most  promptly  obeyed  this  summons  beheld 
the  lower  castle  gate,  built  by  the  then  reigning  monarch, 
open,  while  from  it  issued  four  trumpeters  clad  in  em- 
blazoned coats,  with  silken  bandrols  depending  from  their 
horns,  blowing  loud  fanfares.  They  were  followed  by 
twelve  henchmen,  walking  four  abreast,  arrayed  in  scarlet 
tunics,  with  the  royal  cipher,  '(£),  *|RM  worked  in  gold  on 
the  breast,  and  carrying  gilt  pole-axes  over  their  shoulders. 
Next  came  a company  of  archers,  equipped  in  helm  and 
brigandine,  and  armed  with  long  pikes,  glittering,  as 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


23 


did  their  steel  accouterments,  in  the  bright  sunshine. 
They  were  succeeded  by  the  bailiffs  and  burgesses  of  the 
town,  riding  three  abreast,  and  enveloped  in  gowns  of 
scarlet  cloth ; after  whom  rode  the  mayor  of  Windsor,  in 
a gown  of  crimson  velvet,  and  attended  by  two  footmen,  in 
white  and  red  damask,  carrying  white  wands.  The 
mayor  was  followed  by  a company  of  the  town  guard, 
with  partisans  over  the  shoulders.  Then  came  the 
sheriff  of  the  county  and  his  attendants.  Next  followed 
the  twenty-six  alms-knights,  (for  such  was  then  their 
number,)  walking  two  and  two,  and  wearing  red  mantles, 
with  a scutcheon  of  Saint  George  on  the  shoulder,  but 
without  the  garter  surrounding  it.  Then  came  the 
thirteen  petty  canons,  in  murrey-colored  gowns,  with 
the  arms  of  Saint  George  wrought  in  a roundel  on  the 
shoulder ; then  the  twelve  canons,  similarly  attired ; and 
lastly,  the  dean  of  the  college  in  his  cope. 

A slight  pause  ensued,  and  the  chief  officers  of  the  Garter 
made  their  appearance.  First  walked  the  Black-rod, 
clothed  in  a russet-colored  mantle,  faced  with  alternate 
panes  of  blue  and  red,  emblazoned  with  flower  de  luces  of 
gold,  and  crowned  lions.  He  carried  a small  black  rod, 
the  ensign  of  his  office,  surmounted  with  the  lion  of  Eng- 
land in  silver.  After  the  Black- rod  came  the  Garter, 
habited  in  a gown  of  crimson  satin,  paned  and  emblazoned 
like  that  of  the  officer  who  preceded  him,  bearing  a white 
crown  with  a scepter  upon  it,  and  having  a gilt  crown,  in 
lieu  of  a cap,  upon  his  head.  The  Garter  was  followed  by 
the  Register,  a grave  personage,  in  a black  gown,  with  a 
surplice  over  it,  covered  by  a mantelet  of  furs.  Then 
came  the  chancellor  of  the  order,  in  his  robe  of  murrey- 
colored  velvet  lined  with  sarcenet,  with  a badge  on  the 
shoulder  consisting  of  a gold  rose,  enclosed  in  a garter 
wrought  with  pearls  of  damask  gold.  Lastly,  came  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  the  prelate  of  the  order,  wearing 


24 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


his  miter,  and  habited  in  a robe  of  crimson  velvet  lined 
with  white  taffeta,  faced  with  blue,  and  embroidered  on 
the  right  shoulder  with  a scutcheon  of  Saint  George, 
encompassed  with  the  garter,  and  adorned  with  cordons 
of  blue  silk  mingled  with  gold. 

Brought  up  by  a rear-guard  of  halberdiers,  the  proces- 
sion moved  slowly  along  Thames  Street,  the  houses  of 
which,  as  well  as  those  in  Peascod  Street,  were  all  more 
or  less  decorated, — the  humbler  sort  being  covered  with 
branches  of  trees,  intermingled  with  garlands  of  flowers, 
while  the  better  description  was  hung  with  pieces  of 
tapestry,  carpets,  and  rich  stuffs.  Nor  should  it  pass 
unnoticed  that  the  loyalty  of  Bryan  Bowntance,  the  host 
of  the  Garter,  had  exhibited  itself  in  an  arch  thrown  across 
the  road  opposite  his  house,  adorned  with  various  colored 
ribbons  and  flowers,  in  the  midst  of  which  was  a large 
shield,  exhibiting  the  letters  1b*  and  H*  (in  mystic  al- 
lusion to  Henry  and  Anne  Boleyn)  intermingled,  and  sur- 
rounded by  love-knots. 

Turning  off  on  the  left  into  the  lower  road,  skirting  the 
north  of  the  Castle,  and  following  the  course  of  the  river 
to  Datchet,  by  which  it  was  understood  the  royal  caval- 
cade would  make  its  approach,  the  procession  arrived  at 
an  open  space  by  the  side  of  the  river,  where  it  came  to  a 
halt,  and  the  dean,  chancellor,  and  prelate,  together  with 
other  officers  of  the  Garter,  embarked  in  a barge  moored 
to  the  bank,  which  was  towed  slowly  down  the  stream  in 
the  direction  of  Datchet  Bridge, — a band  of  minstrels 
stationed  within  it,  playing  all  the  time. 

Meanwhile,  the  rest  of  the  cavalcade,  having  again  set 
forward,  pursued  their  course  along  the  banks  of  the  river, 
proceeding  at  a foot’s  pace,  and  accompanied  by  crowds 
of  spectators,  cheering  them  as  they  moved  along.  The 
day  was  bright  and  beautiful,  and  nothing  was  wanting 
to  enhance  the  beauty  of  the  spectacle.  On  the  left  flowed 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


25 


the  silver  Thames,  crowded  with  craft,  filled  with  richly 
dressed  personages  of  both  sexes,  amid  which  floated  the 
pompous  barge  appropriated  to  the  officers  of  the  Garter, 
which  was  hung  with  banners  and  streamers,  and  deco- 
rated at  the  sides  with  targets,  emblazoned  with  the  arms 
of  Saint  George.  On  the  green  sward  edging  the  stream 
marched  a brilliant  cavalcade ; and  on  the  right  lay  the 
old  woods  of  the  Home  Park,  with  long  vistas  opening 
through  them,  giving  exquisite  peeps  of  the  towers  and 
battlements  of  the  castle. 

Half  an  hour  brought  the  cavalcade  to  Datchet  Bridge, 
at  the  foot  of  which  a pavilion  was  erected  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  mayor  and  burgesses.  And  here, 
having  dismounted,  they  awaited  the  king’s  arrival. 

Shortly  after  this,  a cloud  of  dust  on  the  Staines  road 
seemed  to  announce  the  approach  of  the  royal  party,  and 
all  rushed  forth,  and  held  themselves  in  readiness  to  meet 
it.  But  the  dust  appeared  to  have  been  raised  by  a com- 
pany of  horsemen,  headed  by  Captain  Bouchier,  who  rode 
up  the  next  moment.  Courteously  saluting  the  mayor, 
Bouchier  informed  him  that  Mistress  Anne  Boleyn  was 
close  behind,  and  that  it  was  the  king’s  pleasure  that  she 
should  be  attended  in  all  state  to  the  lower  gate  of  the 
castle,  there  to  await  his  coming,  as  he  himself  intended 
to  enter  it  with  her.  The  mayor  replied  that  the  sover- 
eign’s behests  should  be  implicitly  obeyed ; and  he  there- 
upon stationed  himself  at  the  further  side  of  the  bridge 
in  expectation  of  Anne  Boleyn’s  arrival. 

Presently,  the  sound  of  trumpets  smote  his  ear,  and  a 
numerous  and  splended  retinue  was  seen  advancing,  con- 
sisting of  nobles,  knights,  esquires,  and  gentlemen,  ranged 
according  to  their  degrees,  and  all  sumptuously  appar- 
eled in  cloths  of  gold  and  silver,  and  velvets  of  various 
colors,  richly  embroidered.  Besides  these,  there  were 
pages  and  other  attendants  in  the  liveries  of  their  masters, 


26 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


together  with  sergeants  of  the  guard  and  henchmen,  in 
their  full  accouterments.  Among  the  nobles  were  the 
Dukes  of  Norfolk  and  Suffolk, — the  king  being  desirous 
of  honoring,  as  much  as  possible,  her  whom  he  had  re- 
solved to  make  his  queen:  the  former  was  clothed  in 
tissue,  embroidered  with  roses  of  gold,  with  a baldric 
across  his  body  of  massive  gold,  and  was  mounted  on  a 
charger  likewise  trapped  in  gold  ; and  the  latter  wore  a 
mantle  of  cloth  of  silver,  pounced  in  the  form  of  letters, 
and  lined  with  blue  velvet,  while  his  horse  was  trapped 
bardwise  in  harness  embroidered  with  bullion  gold  curi- 
ously wrought.  Both  also  wore  the  collar  of  the  order  of 
the  Garter.  Near  them  rode  Sir  Thomas  Boleyn,  who, 
conscious  of  the  dignity  to  which  his  daughter  was  to  be 
advanced,  comported  himself  with  almost  intolerable 
haughtiness. 

Immediately  behind  Sir  Thomas  Boleyn  came  a sump- 
tuous litter  covered  with  cloth  of  gold,  drawn  by  four 
white  palfreys  caparisoned  in  white  damask  down  to  the 
ground,  and  each  having  a page  in  white  and  blue  satin  at 
its  head.  Over  the  litter  was  borne  a canopy  of  cloth  of 
gold  supported  by  four  gilt  staves,  and  ornamented  at  the 
corners  with  silver  bells,  ringing  forth  sweet  music  as  it 
moved  along.  Each  staff  was  borne  by  a knight,  of  whom 
sixteen  were  in  attendance  to  relieve  one  another  when 
fatigued. 

In  this  litter  sat  Anne  Boleyn.  She  wore  a surcoat  of 
white  tissue,  and  a mantle  of  the  same  material  lined  with 
ermine.  Her  gown,  which,  however,  was  now  concealed 
by  the  surcoat,  was  of  cloth  of  gold  tissue,  raised  with 
pearls  of  silver  damask,  with  a stomacher  of  purple  gold 
similarly  raised,  and  large  open  sleeves  lined  with  check- 
ered tissue.  Around  her  neck  she  wore  a chain  of 
orient  pearls,  from  which  depended  a diamond  cross.  A 
black  velvet  cap,  richly  embroidered  with  pearls  and  other 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


27 


precious  stones,  and  ornamented  with  a small  white  plume, 
covered  her  head  ; and  her  small  feet  were  hidden  in  blue 
velvet  brodequins,  decorated  with  diamond  stars. 

Anne  Boleyn’s  features  were  exquisitely  formed,  and 
though  not  regular,  far  more  charming  than  if  they  had 
been  so.  Her  nose  was  slightly  aquiline,  but  not  enough 
so  to  detract  from  its  beauty,  and  had  a little  retrousse 
point  that  completed  its  attraction.  The  rest  of  her  feat- 
ures were  delicately  chiseled  ; the  chin  being  beautifully 
rounded,  the  brows  smooth  and  white  as  snow,  while  the 
rose  could  not  vie  with  the  bloom  of  her  cheek.  Her 
neck — alas  ! that  the  fell  hand  of  the  executioner  should 
ever  touch  it — was  long  and  slender,  her  eyes  large  and 
blue,  and  of  irresistible  witchery — sometimes  scorching 
the  beholder  like  a sunbeam,  anon  melting  him  with  soul- 
subduing  softness. 

Of  her  accomplishments  other  opportunities  will  be 
found  to  speak ; but  it  may  be  mentioned  that  she  was 
skilled  on  many  instruments,  danced  and  sung  divinely, 
and  had  rare  powers  of  conversation  and  wit.  If  to  these 
she  had  not  added  the  dangerous  desire  to  please,  and  the 
wish  to  hold  other  hearts  than  the  royal  one  she  had  en- 
slaved, in  thraldom,  all  might,  perhaps,  have  been  well. 
But,  alas  ! like  many  other  beautiful  women,  she  had  a 
strong  tendency  to  coquetry.  How  severely  she  suffered 
for  it,  it  is  the  purpose  of  this  history  to  relate.  An  excel- 
lent description  of  her  has  been  given  by  a contemporary 
writer,  the  Comte  de  Chateaubriand,  who,  while  some- 
what disparaging  her  personal  attractions,  speaks  in 
rapturous  terms  of  her  accomplishments : — “ Anne? 
writes  the  Comte,  “ avait  un  esprit  si  deslie  qui  destoit  d 
quiVouiroit  desgoiser ; et  si  venoit-elle  d poetiser,  telle  qu* 
Orpheus , elle  eust  faict  les  ours  et  rockers  attentifs : puis 
saltoit , balloit , et  danpoit  toutes  dances  Anglaises  ou  Es~ 
. tranges , et  en  imagina  nornbre  qui  ont  garde  son  nom  ou 


28 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


celluy  du  galant  pour  qui  les  feit;  puis  spavoit  tous  les 
jeux , qu’elle  jouoit  avec  non  plus  d'heur  que  d'kabilite  / puis 
chantoit  comme  syrene , s’ accompagnant  de  luth / harpoit 
mieuelx  que  le  roy  David , et  manioitfort  gentilment  fleuste 
et  rebec  / ptm  s'accoustroit  de  taut  et  si  merveilleuses  famous , 
inventions , faisoient  d'elle  le  parangon  de  toutes  les 
dames  les  plus  sucrees  de  la  court  / maw  n’avoit  sa 
grace , laquelle, , aw  eBrs  eTww  ancien,  passe  venusteP  Such 
was  the  opinion  of  one  who  knew  her  well  during  her  res- 
idence at  the  French  court,  when  in  attendance  on 
Mary  of  England,  consort  of  Louis  XII.,  and  afterwards 
Duchess  of  Suffolk. 

At  this  moment,  Anne’s  eyes  were  fixed  with  some  ten- 
derness upon  one  of  the  supporters  of  her  canopy  on  the 
right, — a very  handsome  young  man,  attired  in  a doublet 
and  hose  of  black  tylsent,  paned  and  cut,  and  whose  tall, 
well-proportioned  figure  was  seen  to  the  greatest  advan- 
tage, inasmuch  as  he  had  divested  himself  of  his  mantle, 
for  his  better  convenience  in  walking. 

“ I fear  me  you  will  fatigue  yourself,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,” 
said  Anne  Boleyn,  in  tones  of  musical  sweetness,  which 
made  the  heart  beat,  and  the  color  mount  to  the  cheeks  of 
him  she  addressed.  64  You  had  better  allow  Sir  Thomas 
Arundel  or  Sir  John  Hulstone  to  relieve  you.” 

44 1 can  feel  no  fatigue  when  near  you,  madam,”  replied 
Wyat,  in  a low  tone. 

A slight  blush  overspread  Anne’s  features,  and  she 
raised  her  embroidered  kerchief  to  her  lips. 

44  If  I had  that  kerchief  I would  wear  it  at  the  next 
lists,  and  defy  all  comers,”  said  Wyat. 

44  You  shall  have  it,  then,”  rejoined  Anne.  44 1 love  all 
chivalrous  exploits,  and  will  do  my  best  to  encourage 
them.” 

44  Take  heed,  Sir  Thomas,”  said  Sir  Francis  Weston,  the 
knight  who  held  the  staff  on  the  other  side, 44  or  we  shall 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  29 

have  the  canopy  down.  Let  Sir  Thomas  Arundel  relieve 
you.” 

“No,”  rejoined  Wyat,  recovering  himself;  “I  will  not 
rest  till  we  come  to  the  bridge.” 

“ You  are  in  no  haste  to  possess  the  kerchief,”  said  Anne, 
petulantly. 

“ There  you  wrong  me,  madam  ! ” cried  Sir  Thomas, 
eagerly.  “ What  ho,  good  fellows  ! ” he  shouted  to  the 
attendants  at  the  palfreys’  heads  ; “ your  lady  desires  you 
to  stop.” 

“ And  I desire  them  to  go  on, — I,  Will  Sommers,  jester 
to  the  high  and  mighty  King  Harry  the  Eighth  ! ” cried 
a voice  of  mock  authority  behind  the  knight ; “ what,  if 
Sir  Thomas  Wyat  has  undertaken  to  carry  the  canopy 
further  than  any  of  his  companions,  is  that  a reason  he 
should  be  relieved  ? Of  a surety  not — go  on,  I say ! ” 

The  person  who  thus  spoke  then  stepped  forward,  and 
threw  a glance  so  full  of  significance  at  Anne  Boleyn  that 
she  did  not  care  to  dispute  the  order,  but  on  the  contrary, 
laughingly  acquiesced  in  it. 

Will  Sommers,  the  king’s  jester,  as  he  described  him- 
self, was  a small,  middle-aged  personage,  with  a physiog- 
nomy in  which  good-nature  and  malice,  folly  and  shrewd- 
ness, were  so  oddly  blended,  that  it  was  difficult  to  say 
which  predominated.  His  look  was  cunning  and  sarcastic, 
but  it  was  tempered  by  great  drollery  and  oddity  of  man- 
ner, and  he  laughed  so  heartily  at  his  own  jests  and  jibes, 
that  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  help  joining  him.  His  at- 
tire consisted  of  a long,  loose  gown,  of  spotted  crimson 
silk,  with  the  royal  cipher  woven  in  front  in  gold ; hose 
of  blue  cloth,  guarded  with  red  and  black  cloth ; and  red 
cordovan  buskins.  A sash  tied  round  his  waist  served 
him  instead  of  a girdle,  and  he  wore  a trencher-shaped 
velvet  cap  on  his  head,  with  a white  tufted  feather  in  it. 
In  his  hand  he  carried  a small  horn.  He  was  generally 


30 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


attended  by  a monkey,  habited  in  a crimson  doublet  and 
hood,  which  sat  upon  his  shoulder,  and  played  very  di- 
verting tricks,  but  the  animal  was  not  with  him  on  the 
present  occasion. 

Will  Sommers  was  a great  favorite  with  the  king,  and 
ventured  upon  familiarities  which  no  one  else  dared  to 
use  with  him.  The  favor  in  which  he  stood  with  his  royal 
master  procured  him  admittance  to  his  presence  at  all 
hours,  and  at  all  seasons,  and  his  influence,  though  seldom 
exerted,  was  very  great.  He  was  especially  serviceable  in 
turning  aside  the  edge  of  the  king’s  displeasure,  and  more 
frequently  exerted  himself  to  allay  the  storm,  than  to 
raise  it.  His  principal  hostility  was  directed  against 
Wolsey,  whose  arrogance  and  grasping  practises  were  the 
constant  subjects  of  his  railing.  It  was  seldom,  such  was 
his  privileged  character,  and  the  protection  he  enjoyed 
from  the  sovereign,  that  any  of  the  courtiers  resented  his 
remarks;  but  Sir  Thomas  Wyat’s  feelings  being  now 
deeply  interested,  he  turned  sharply  round,  and  said — 
“ How  now,  thou  meddling  varlet,  what  business  hast  thou 
to  interfere  ? ” 

“ I interfere  to  prove  my  authority,  gossip  Wyat,”  re- 
plied Sommers,  “ and  to  show  that,  varlet  as  I am,  I am 
as  powferful  as  Mistress  Anne  Boleyn ; nay,  that  I am  yet 
more  powerful,  because  I am  obeyed,  while  she  is  not.” 

“ Were  I at  liberty,”  said  Sir  Thomas,  angrily,  “ I would 
make  thee  repent  thine  insolence.” 

“ But  thou  art  not  at  liberty,  good  gossip,”  replied  the 
jester  screaming  with  laughter ; “ thou  art  tied  like  a 
slave  to  the  oar,  and  cannot  free  thyself  from  it — ha  ! ha ! ” 
Having  enjoyed  the  knight’s  discomposure  for  a few 
seconds,  he  advanced  towards  him,  and  whispered  in  his 
ear  : — “ Don’t  mistake  me,  gossip.  I have  done  thee  good 
service  in  preventing  thee  from  taking  that  kerchief. 
Hadst  thou  received  it  in  the  presence  of  these  witnesses, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


31 


thou  wouldst  have  been  lodged  in  the  Round  Tower  of 
Windsor  Castle  to-morrow,  instead  of  feasting  with  the 
knights-companions  in  Saint  George’s  Hall.” 

“I  believe  thou  art  right,  gossip,”  said  Wyat,  in  the 
same  tone. 

“ Rest  assured  I am,”  replied  Sommers  ; 44  and  I further- 
more counsel  thee  to  decline  this  dangerous  gift  altogether, 
and  to  think  no  more  of  the  fair  profferer,  or  if  thou  must 
think  of  her,  let  it  be  as  of  one  beyond  thy  reach.  Cross 
not  the  lion’s  path.  Take  a friendly  hint  from  the 
jackal.” 

And  without  waiting  for  a reply,  he  darted  away,  and 
mingled  with  the  cavalcade  in  the  rear. 

Immediately  behind  Anne  Boleyn’s  litter  rode  a com- 
pany of  henchmen  of  the  royal  household,  armed  with  gilt 
partisans.  Next  succeeded  a chariot  covered  with  red 
cloth  of  gold,  and  drawn  by  four  horses  richly  capar- 
isoned, containing  the  old  Duchess  of  Norfolk  and  the  old 
Marchioness  of  Dorset.  Then  came  the  king’s  natural  son, 
the  Duke  of  Richmond — a young  man  formed  on  the  same 
large  scale,  and  distinguished  by  the  same  haughty  port 
and  the  same  bluff  manner,  as  his  royal  sire.  The  duke’s 
mother  was  the  Lady  Talboys,  esteemed  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  of  the  age,  and  who  had,  for  a longtime, 
held  the  capricious  monarch  captive.  Henry  was  warmly 
attached  to  his  son;  showered  favors  without  number 
upon  him ; and  might  have  done  yet  more,  if  fate  had  not 
snatched  him  away  at  an  early  age. 

Though  scarcely  eighteen,  the  Duke  of  Richmond  looked 
more  than  twenty,  and  his  lips  and  chin  were  clothed  with 
a well  grown,  though  closely- clipped  beard.  He  was 
magnificently  habited  in  a doublet  of  cloth  of  gold  of 
bawdekin,  the  placard  and  sleeves  of  which  were  wrought 
with  flat  gold,  and  fastened  with  aiglets.  A girdle  of 
crimson  velvet,  enriched  with  precious  stones,  encircled 


32 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


his  waist,  and  sustained  a poniard,  and  a Toledo  sword, 
damascened  with  gold.  Over  all  he  wore  a loose,  robe,  or 
Jionsse , of  scarlet  mohair,  trimmed  with  minever  ; and  was 
further  decorated  with  the  collar  of  the  order  of  the  Gar- 
ter. His  cap  was  of  white  velvet,  ornamented  with  emer- 
alds, and  from  the  side  depended  a small  azure  plume. 
He  rode  a magnificent  black  charger  trapped  in  housings 
of  cloth  of  gold,  powdered  with  ermine. 

By  the  duke’s  side  rode  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  attired  as 
upon  the  previous  day,  and  mounted  on  a fiery  Arabian, 
trapped  in  crimson  velvet,  fringed  with  Venetian  gold. 
Both  nobles  were  attended  by  their  esquires  in  their 
liveries. 

Behind  them  came  a chariot  covered  with  cloth  of 
silver,  and  drawn,  like  the  first,  by  four  horses  in  rich 
housings,  containing  two  very  beautiful  damsels,  one  of 
whom  attracted  so  much  of  the  attention  of  the  youthful 
nobles,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  they  could  preserve  due 
order  of  march.  The  young  dame  in  question  was  about 
seventeen ; her  face  was  oval  in  form,  with  features  of  the 
utmost  delicacy  and  regularity.  Her  complexion  was  fair 
and  pale,  and  contrasted  strikingly  with  her  jetty  brows 
and  magnificent  black  eyes,  of  oriental  size,  tenderness, 
and  luster.  Her  dark  and  luxuriant  tresses  were  confined 
by  a cap  of  black  velvet  faced  with  white  satin,  and  orna- 
mented with  pearls.  Her  gown  was  of  white  satin  worked 
with  gold,  and  had  long,  open,  pendent  sleeves ; while 
from  her  slender  and  marble  neck  hung  a cordeliere — a 
species  of  necklace  imitated  from  the  cord  worn  by  Fran- 
ciscan friars,  and  formed  of  crimson  silk  twisted  with 
threads  of  Venetian  gold. 

This  fair  creature  was  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Fitzgerald, 
daughter  of  Gerald  Fitzgerald,  ninth  Earl  of  Kildare,  who 
claimed  descent  from  the  Geraldi  family  of  Florence ; 
but  she  was  generally  known  by  the  appellation  of  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


33 


Fair  Geraldine — a title  bestowed  upon  her,  on  account  of 
her  beauty,  by  the  king,  and  by  which  she  still  lives,  and 
will  continue  to  live,  as  long  as  poetry  endures,  in  the 
deathless  and  enchanting  strains  of  her  lover,  the  Earl  of 
Surrey.  At  the  instance  of  her  mother,  Lady  Kildare, 
the  fair  Geraldine  was  brought  up  with  the  Princess 
Mary,  afterwards  Queen  of  England ; but  she  had  been 
lately  assigned  by  the  royal  order  as  one  of  the  attend- 
ants— a post  equivalent  to  that  of  maid  of  honor — to 
Anne  Boleyn. 

Her  companion  was  the  Lady  Mary  Howard,  the  sister 
of  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  a nymph  about  her  own  age,  and 
possessed  of  great  personal  attractions,  having  nobly- 
formed  features,  radiant  blue  eyes,  light  tresses,  and  a 
complexion  of  dazzling  clearness.  Lady  Mary  Howard 
nourished  a passion  for  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  whom 
she  saw  with  secret  chagrin  captivated  by  the  superior 
charms  of  the  fair  Geraldine.  Her  uneasiness,  however, 
was  in  some  degree  abated  by  the  knowledge,  which,  as 
confidante  of  the  latter  she  had  obtained,  that  her  brother 
was  master  of  her  heart.  Lady  Mary  was  dressed  in  blue 
velvet,  cut  and  lined  with  cloth  of  gold,  and  wore  a head- 
gear  of  white  velvet,  ornamented  with  pearls. 

Just  as  the  cavalcade  came  in  sight  of  Datchet  Bridge, 
the  Duke  of  Richmond  turned  his  horse’s  head,  and  rode 
up  to  the  side  of  the  chariot  on  which  the  fair  Geraldine 
was  sitting. 

“ I am  come  to  tell  you  of  a marvelous  adventure  that 
befell  Surrey  in  the  Home  Park  at  Windsor,  last  night,’5 
he  said.  “ He  declares  he  has  seen  the  demon  hunter 
Herne.” 

“ Then  pray  let  the  Earl  of  Surry  relate  the  adventure 
to  us  himself,”  replied  the  fair  Geraldine.  “No  one  can 
tell  a story  so  well  as  the  hero  of  it.” 

The  duke  signed  to  the  youthful  earl,  who  was  glanc- 


34 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


ing  rather  wistfully  at  them,  and  he  immediately  joined 
them,  while  Richmond  passed  over  to  the  Lady  Mary 
Howard.  Surrey  then  proceeded  to  relate  what  had 
happened  to  him  in  the  park,  and  the  fair  Geraldine  lis- 
tened to  his  recital  with  breathless  interest. 

“ Heaven  shield  us  from  evil  spirits  ! ” she  exclaimed, 
crossing  herself.  “ But  what  is  the  history  of  this  wicked 
hunter,  my  lord  ? — and  why  did  he  incur  such  a dreadful 
doom  ? ” 

“ I know  nothing  more  than  that  he  was  a keeper  in 
the  forest,  who,  having  committed  some  heinous  crime, 
hanged  himself  from  a branch  of  the  oak  beneath  which 
I found  the  keeper,  Morgan  Fenwolf — and  which  still 
bears  his  name,”  replied  the  earl.  “ For  this  unrighteous 
act,  he  cannot  obtain  rest,  but  is  condemned  to  wander 
through  the  forest  at  midnight,  where  he  wreaks  his 
vengeance  in  blasting  the  trees.” 

“ The  legend  I have  heard  differs  from  yours,”  ob- 
served the  Duke  of  Richmond.  “ It  runs  that  the  spirit 
by  which  the  forest  is  haunted  is  a wood-demon,  who 
assumes  the  shape  of  the  ghostly  hunter,  and  seeks  to 
tempt  or  terrify  the  keepers  to  sell  their  souls  to  him.” 

“Your  grace’s  legend  is  the  better  of  the  two,”  said 
Lady  Mary  Howard,  “ or  rather,  I should  say,  the  more 
probable.  I trust  the  evil  spirit  did  not  make  you  any 
such  offer,  brother  of  Surrey  ? ” 

The  earl  gravely  shook  his  head. 

“ If  I were  to  meet  him,  and  he  offered  me  my  heart’s 
dearest  wish,  I fear  he  would  prevail  with  me,”  observed 
the  duke,  glancing  tenderly  at  the  fair  Geraldine. 

“ Tush  !— the  subject  is  too  serious  for  jesting,  Rich- 
mond,” said  Surrey,  almost  sternly. 

“His  grace,  as  is  usual  in  compacts  with  the  fiend, 
might  have  reason  to  rue  his  bargain,”  observed  Lady 
Mary  Howard,  peevishly. 


WINDSOK  CASTLE. 


35 


“ If  the  Earl  of  Surrey  were  my  brother,”  remarked  the 
fair  Geraldine  to  the  Lady  Mary,  “ I would  interdict  him 
from  roaming  in  the  park  after  nightfall.” 

“ He  is  very  wilful,”  said  Lady  Mary,  smiling,  “ and 
holds  my  command  but  lightly.” 

“ Let  the  fair  Geraldine  lay  hers  upon  me,  and  she  shall 
not  have  to  reproach  me  with  disobedience,”  rejoined  the 
earl. 

“ I must  interpose  to  prevent  their  utterance,”  cried 
Richmond,  with  a somewhat  jealous  look  at  his  friend — 
“ for  I have  determined  to  know  more  of  this  mystery, 
and  shall  require  the  earl’s  assistance  to  unravel  it.  I 
think  I remember  Morgan  Fenwolf,  the  keeper,  and  will 
send  for  him  to  the  castle  and  question  him.  But  in  any 
case,  I and  Surrey  will  visit  Herne’s  oak  to-night.” 

The  remonstrances  of  both  ladies  were  interrupted  by 
the  sudden  appearance  of  Will  Sommers. 

“ What  ho  ! my  lords — to  your  places  ! to  your  places  ! ” 
cried  the  jester,  in  a shrill,  angry  voice.  “ See  ye  not  we 
are  close  upon  Datchet  Bridge  ? Ye  can  converse  with 
these  fair  dames  at  a more  fitting  season ; but  it  is  the 
king’s  pleasure  that  the  cavalcade  should  make  a goodly 
show.  To  your  places,  I say  ! ” 

Laughing  at  the  jester’s  peremptory  injunction,  the  two 
young  nobles  nevertheless  obeyed  it,  and,  bending  almost 
to  the  saddlebow  to  the  ladies,  resumed  their  posts. 

The  concourse  assembled  on  Datchet  Bridge  welcomed 
Anne  Boleyn’s  arrival  with  loud  acclamations,  while  joy- 
ous strains  proceeded  from  sackbut  and  psaltery,  and  echo- 
ing blasts  from  the  trumpets.  Caps  were  flung  into  the 
air,  and  a piece  of  ordnance  was  fired  from  the  barge, 
which  was  presently  afterwards  answered  by  the  castle 
guns.  Having  paid  his  homage  to  Anne  Boleyn,  the 
mayor  rejoined  the  company  of  bailiffs  and  burgesses, 
and  the  whole  cavalcade  crossed  the  bridge,  winding  their 


36 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


way  slowly  along  the  banks  of  the  river,  the  barge,  with 
the  minstrels  playing  in  it,  accompanying  them  the  while. 
In  this  way,  they  reached  Windsor,  and  as  Anne  Boleyn 
gazed  up  at  the  lordly  castle,  above  which  the  royal 
standard  now  floated,  proud  and  aspiring  thoughts 
swelled  her  heart,  and  she  longed  for  the  hour  when  she 
should  approach  it  as  its  mistress.  Just  then,  her  eye 
chanced  on  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  who  was  riding  behind 
her  amongst  the  knights,  and  she  felt,  though  it  might 
cost  her  a struggle,  that  love  would  yield  to  ambition. 

Leaving  the  barge  and  its  occupants  to  await  the  king’s 
arrival,  the  cavalcade  ascended  Thames  Street,  and  were 
welcomed  everywhere  with  acclamations  and  rejoicing. 
Bryan  Bowntance,  who  had  stationed  himself  on  the 
right  of  the  arch  in  front  of  his  house,  attempted  to  ad- 
dress Anne  Boleyn,  but  could  not  bring  forth  a word. 
His  failure,  however,  was  more  successful  than  his  speech 
might  have  been,  inasmuch  as  it  excited  abundance  of 
merriment. 

Arrived  at  the  area  in  front  of  the  lower  gateway, 
Anne  Boleyn’s  litter  was  drawn  up  in  the  midst  of  it,  and 
the  whole  of  the  cavalcade  grouping  around  her,  presented 
a magnificent  sight  to  the  archers  and  arquebusiers  sta- 
tioned on  the  towers  and  walls. 

Just  at  this  moment,  a signal  gun  was  heard  from 
Datchet  Bridge,  announcing  that  the  king  had  reached  it, 
and  the  Dukes  of  Suffolk,  Norfolk  and  Richmond,  to- 
gether with  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  and  a 
few  of  their  gentlemen,  rode  back  to  meet  him.  They 
had  scarcely,  however,  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill  when 
the  royal  party  appeared  in  view , for  the  king,  with  his 
characteristic  impatience,  on  drawing  near  the  castle, 
had  urged  his  attendants  quickly  forward. 

First  came  half  a dozen  trumpeters,  with  silken  band- 
rols  fluttering  in  the  breeze,  blowing  loud  flourishes.  Then 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


37 


a party  of  halberdiers,  whose  leaders  had  pennons  stream- 
ing from  the  tops  of  their  tall  pikes.  Next  came  two  gen- 
tlemen-ushers  bareheaded,  but  mounted  and  richly  hab- 
ited, belonging  to  the  cardinal  of  York,  who  cried  out, 
as  they  pressed  forward — “ On  before,  my  masters,  on 
before ! — make  way  for  my  lord’s  grace.” 

Then  came  a sergeant  of  arms  bearing  a great  mace  of 
silver,  and  two  gentlemen  carrying  each  a pillar  of  silver. 
Next  rode  a gentleman  carrying  the  cardinal’s  hat,  and 
after  him  came  Wolsey  himself,  mounted  on  a mule 
trapped  in  crimson  velvet,  with  a saddle  covered  with 
the  same  stuff,  and  gilt  stirrups.  His  large  person  was 
arrayed  in  robes  of  the  finest  crimson  satin  engrained, 
and  a silk  cap  of  the  same  color  contrasted  by  its  bright- 
ness with  the  pale,  purple  tint  of  his  sullen,  morose,  and 
bloated  features.  The  cardinal  took  no  notice  of  the  clamor 
around  him,  but  now  and  then,  when  an  expression  of 
dislike  was  uttered  against  him,  for  he  had  already  begun 
to  be  unpopular  with  the  people,  he  would  raise  his  eyes 
and  direct  a withering  glance  at  the  hardy  speaker.  But 
these  expressions  were  few,  for,  though  tottering,  Wolsey 
was  yet  too  formidable  to  be  insulted  with  impunity. 
On  either  side  of  him  were  two  mounted  attendants,  each 
carrying  a gilt  pole-axe,  who,  if  he  had  given  the  word, 
would  have  instantly  chastised  the  insolence  of  the  by- 
standers ; while  behind  him  rode  his  two  cross-bearers, 
upon  horses  trapped  in  scarlet. 

Wolsey ’s  princely  retinue  was  followed  by  a litter  of 
crimson  velvet,  in  which  lay  the  Pope’s  legate,  Cardinal 
Campeggio,  whose  infirmities  were  so  great  that  he  could 
not  move  without  assistance.  Campeggio  was  likewise 
attended  by  a numerous  train. 

After  a long  line  of  lords,  knights,  and  esquires,  came 
Henry  the  Eighth.  He  was  appareled  in  a robe  of  crim- 
son velvet  furred  with  ermines,  and  wore  a doublet  of 


38 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


raised  gold,  the  placard  of  which  was  embroidered  with 
diamonds,  rubies,  emeralds,  large  pearls,  and  other  pre- 
cious stones.  About  his  neck  was  a baldric  of  baias 
rubies,  and  over  his  robe  he  wore  the  collar  of  the  order 
of  the  Garter.  His  horse,  a charger  of  the  largest  size, 
and  well  able  to  sustain  his  vast  weight,  was  trapped  in 
crimson  velvet  purfled  with  ermines.  His  knights  and 
esquires  were  clothed  in  purple  velvet,  and  his  hench- 
men in  scarlet  tunics  of  the  same  make  as  those  worn  by 
the  warders  of  the  Tower  at  the  present  day. 

Henry  was  in  his  thirty-eighth  year,  and  though 
somewhat  overgrown  and  heavy,  had  lost  none  of  his 
activity,  and  but  little  of  the  grace  of  his  noble  propor- 
tions. His  size  and  breadth  of  limb  were  well  displayed 
in  his  magnificent  habiliments.  His  countenance  was 
handsome  and  manly,  with  a certain  broad  burly  look, 
thoroughly  English  in  its  character,  which  won  him 
much  admiration  from  his  subjects ; and  though  it  might 
be  objected  that  the  eyes  were  too  small,  and  the  mouth 
somewhat  too  diminutive,  it  could  not  be  denied  that  the 
general  expression  of  the  face  was  kingly  in  the  extreme. 
A prince  of  a more  “ royal  presence  ” than  Henry  the 
Eighth  was  never  seen,  and  though  he  had  many  and 
grave  faults,  want  of  dignity  was  not  amongst  the 
number. 

Henry  entered  Windsor  amid  the  acclamations  of  the 
spectators,  the  fanfares  of  trumpeters,  and  the  roar  of 
ordnance  from  the  castle  walls. 

Meanwhile,  Anne  Boleyn,  having  descended  from  her 
litter,  which  passed  through  the  gate  into  the  lower 
ward,  stood  with  her  ladies  beneath  the  canopy  awaiting 
his  arrival. 

A wide  clear  space  was  preserved  before  her,  into 
which,  however,  Wolsey  penetrated,  and  dismounting, 
placed  himself  so  that  he  could  witness  the  meeting 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


39 


between  her  and  the  king.  Behind  him  stood  the  jester, 
Will  Sommers,  who  was  equally  curious  with  himself. 
The  litter  of  Cardinal  Campeggio  passed  through  the 
gateway  and  proceeded  to  the  lodgings  reserved  to  his 
eminence. 

Scarcely  had  Wolsey  taken  up  his  station  than  Henry 
rode  up,  and,  alighting,  consigned  his  horse  to  a page, 
and,  followed  by  the  Duke  of  Richmond  and  the  Earl  of 
Surrey,  advanced  towards  Anne  Boleyn,  who  immediately 
stepped  forward  to  meet  him. 

“ Fair  mistress,”  he  said,  taking  her  hand,  and  regard- 
ing her  with  a look  of  passionate  devotion,  “ I welcome 
you  to  this  my  castle  of  Windsor,  and  trust  soon  to  make 
you  as  absolute  mistress  of  it,  as  I am  lord  and  master.” 

Anne  Boleyn  blushed,  and  cast  down  her  eyes,  and 
Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  who  stood  at  some  little  distance 
with  his  hand  upon  his  saddle,  regarding  her,  felt  that 
any  hopes  he  might  have  entertained  were  utterly  an- 
nihilated. 

“ Heard  you  that,  my  lord  cardinal?”  said  Will  Som- 
mers to  Wolsey.  “ She  will  soon  be  mistress  here.  As 
she  comes  in,  you  go  out — mind  that ! ” 

The  cardinal  made  no  answer  further  than  was  con- 
veyed by  the  deepened  color  of  his  cheeks. 

Amid  continued  fanfares  and  acclamations,  Harry  then 
led  Anne  Boleyn  through  the  gateway,  followed  by  the 
ladies  in  waiting,  who  were  joined  by  Richmond  and 
Surrey.  The  prelate,  chancellor,  register,  black-rod,  and 
other  officers  of  the  Garter,  together  with  the  whole  of 
the  royal  retinue  who  had  dismounted,  came  after  them. 
A vast  concourse  of  spectators,  extending  almost  as  far 
as  the  Lieutenant’s  Tower,  was  collected  in  front  of  the 
Alms-Knights’  Houses  ; but  a wide  space  had  been  kept 
clear  by  the  henchmen  for  the  passage  of  the  sovereign 
and  his  train,  and  along  this,  Henry  proceeded  with  Anne 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


40 

Boleyn,  in  the  direction  of  the  upper  ward.  Just  as  he 
reached  the  Norman  Tower,  and  passed  the  entrance  to 
the  keep,  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch,  who  was  standing 
beneath  the  gateway,  advanced  towards  him,  and  pros- 
trated himself  on  one  knee. 

“May  it  please  your  majesty,”  said  Shoreditch,  “I  last 
night  arrested  a butcher  of  Windsor,  for  uttering  words 
highly  disrespectful  of  your  highness,  and  of  the  fair  and 
virtuous  lady  by  your  side.” 

“ Ah  ! God’s  death  ! ” exclaimed  the  king.  “ Where  is 
the  traitor  ? Bring  him  before  us.” 

“ He  is  here,”  replied  Shoreditch. 

And  immediately  Mark  Fytton  was  brought  forward 
by  a couple  of  halberdiers.  He  still  preserved  his  un- 
daunted demeanor,  and  gazed  sternly  at  the  king. 

“ So,  fellow,  thou  hast  dared  to  speak  disrespectfully  of 
us — ha  ! ” cried  Henry. 

“ I have  spoken  the  truth,”  replied  the  butcher,  fear- 
lessly. “ I have  said  you  were  about  to  divorce  your 
lawful  consort,  Catherine  of  Aragon,  and  to  take  the 
minion,  Anne  Boleyn,  Avho  stands  beside  you,  to  your  bed. 
And  I added  it  was  a wrongful  act.” 

“ Foul  befall  thy  lying  tongue  for  saying  so  ! ” replied 
Henry,  furiously.  “ I have  a mind  to  pluck  it  from  thy 
throat,  and  cast  it  to  the  dogs.  What  ho  ! guards,  take 
this  caitiff  to  the  summit  of  the  highest  tower  of  the  castle 
— the  Curfew  Tower — and  hang  him  from  it,  so  that  all 
my  loyal  subjects  in  Windsor  may  see  how  traitors  are 
served.” 

“Your  highness  has  judged  him  justly,”  said  Anne 
Boleyn. 

“ You  say  so  now,  Mistress  Anne  Boleyn,”  rejoined  the 
butcher,  “ but  you  yourself  shall  one  day  stand  in  as 
much  peril  of  your  life  as  I do,  and  shall  plead  as  vainly 
as  I should,  were  I to  plead  at  all,  which  I will  never  do, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  41 

to  this  inexorable  tyrant.  You  will  then  remember  my 
end.” 

“ Away  with  him ! ” cried  Henry.  “ I myself  will  go 
to  the  Garter  Tower  to  see  it  done.  Farewell  for  a short 
while,  sweetheart.  I will  read  these  partisans  of  Cath- 
erine a terrible  lesson.” 

As  the  butcher  was  hurried  off  to  the  Curfew  Tower, 
the  king  proceeded  with  his  attendants  to  the  Garter 
Tower,  and  ascended  to  its  summit. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes,  a stout  pole,  like  the  mast  of  a 
ship,  was  thrust  through  the  battlements  of  the  Curfew 
Tower,  on  the  side  looking  towards  the  town.  To  this 
pole  a rope,  of  some  dozen  feet  in  length,  and  having  a 
noose  at  one  end,  was  firmly  secured.  The  butcher  was 
then  brought  forth,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  the  noose 
was  thrown  over  his  neck. 

While  this  was  passing,  the  wretched  man  descried  a 
person  looking  at  him  from  a window  in  a wooden  struc- 
ture projecting  from  the  side  of  the  tower. 

“What,  are  you  there,  Morgan  Fenwolf?”  he  cried. 
“ Remember  what  passed  between  us  in  the  dungeon  last 
night,  and  be  warned!  You  will  not  meet  your  end  as 
firmly  as  I meet  mine.” 

“ Make  thy  shrift  quickly,  fellow,  if  thou  hast  aught  to 
say,”  interposed  one  of  the  halberdiers. 

“ I have  no  shrift  to  make,”  rejoined  the  butcher.  “ I 
have  already  settled  my  account  with  Heaven.  God 
preserve  Queen  Catherine ! ” 

As  he  uttered  these  words,  he  was  thrust  off  from  the 
battlements  by  the  halberdiers,  and  his  body  swung  into 
the  abyss,  amid  the  hootings  and  execrations  of  the 
spectators  below. 

Having  glutted  his  eyes  with  the  horrible  sight,  Henry 
descended  from  the  tower,  and  returned  to  Anne  Boleyn. 


42 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH  HELD  A CHAPTER  OF  THE 

GARTER  ; HOW  HE  ATTENDED  VESPERS  AND  MATINS  IN 

saint  george’s  chapel  ; and  how  he  feasted  with 

THE  KNIGHTS-COMP  ANIONS  IN  SAINT  GEORGE’S  HALL. 

From  a balcony  overlooking  the  upper  ward,  Anne 
Boleyn  beheld  the  king's  approach  on  his  return  from  the 
Garter  Tower,  and  waving  her  hand  smilingly  to  him,  she 
withdrew  into  the  presence-chamber.  Hastening  to  her, 
Henry  found  her  surrounded  by  her  ladies  of  honor,  by 
the  chief  of  the  nobles  and  knights  who  had  composed 
her  train  from  Hampton  Court,  and  by  the  Cardinals 
Wolsey  and  Campeggio ; and  having  exchanged  a few 
words  with  her,  he  took  her  hand,  and  led  her  to  the 
upper  part  of  the  chamber,  where  two  chairs  of  state  were 
set  beneath  a canopy  of  crimson  velvet  embroidered  with 
the  royal  arms,  and  placed  her  in  the  seat,  hitherto  allotted 
to  Catherine  of  Aragon.  A smile  of  triumph  irradiated 
Anne’s  lovely  countenance  at  this  mark  of  distinction ; 
nor  was  her  satisfaction  diminished,  as  Henry  turned  to 
address  the  assemblage. 

44  My  lords,”  he  said,  44  ye  are  right  well  aware  of  the 
scruples  of  conscience  I entertain  in  regard  to  my  marriage 
with  my  brother’s  widow,  Catherine  of  Aragon.  The 
more  I weigh  the  matter,  the  more  convinced  am  I of  its 
unlawfulness ; and  were  it  possible  to  blind  myself  to  my 
sinful  condition,  the  preachers,  who  openly  rebuke  me 
from  the  pulpit,  would  take  care  to  remind  me  of  it.  Mis- 
understand me  not,  my  lords.  I have  no  ground  of  com- 
plaint against  the  queen.  Far  otherwise.  She  is  a lady 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


43 


of  most  excellent  character — full  of  devotion,  loyalty, 
nobility,  and  gentleness.  And  if  I could  divest  myself  of 
my  misgivings,  so  far  from  seeking  to  put  her  from  me,  I 
should  cherish  her  with  the  greatest  tenderness.  Ye  may 
marvel  that  I have  delayed  the  divorce  thus  long.  But  it 
is  only  of  late  that  my  eyes  have  been  opened ; and  the 
step  was  hard  to  take.  Old  affections  clung  to  me — old 
chains  restrained  me — nor  could  I,  without  compunction, 
separate  myself  from  one  who  has  ever  been  to  me  a 
virtuous  and  devoted  consort.” 

“ Thou  hast  undergone  a martyrdom,  gossip,”  observed 
Will  Sommers,  who  had  posted  himself  at  the  foot  of  the 
canopy,  near  the  king,  “ and  shalt  henceforth  be  denomi- 
nated Saint  Henry.” 

The  gravity  of  the  hearers  might  have  been  discomposed 
by  this  remark,  but  for  the  stern  looks  of  the  king. 

“Ye  may  make  a jest  of  my  scruples,  my  lords,”  he 
continued,  “ and  think  I hold  them  lightly ; but  my 
treatise  on  the  subject,  which  has  cost  me  much  labor  and 
meditation,  will  avouch  to  the  contrary.  What  would  be- 
fall this  realm  if  my  marriage  were  called  in  question  after 
my  decease  ? The  same  trouble  and  confusion  would  en- 
sue that  followed  on  the  death  of  my  noble  grandfather, 
King  Edward  the  Fourth.  To  prevent  such  mischance,  I 
have  resolved,  most  reluctantly,  to  put  away  my  present 
queen,  and  to  take  another  consort,  by  whom  I trust  to 
raise  up  a worthy  successor,  and  inheritor  of  my  king- 
dom.” 

A murmur  of  applause  followed  this  speech,  and  the 
two  cardinals  exchanged  significant  glances,  which  were 
not  unobserved  by  the  king. 

“ I doubt  not  ye  will  all  approve  the  choice  I shall  make,” 
he  pursued,  looking  fiercely  at  Wolsey,  and  taking  Anne 
Boleyn’s  hand,  who  arose  as  he  turned  to  her.  “ And  now, 
fair  mistress,”  he  added  to  her,  “as  an  earnest  of  the 


u 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


regard  I have  for  you,  and  of  the  honors  I intend  you,  I 
hereby  create  you  Marchioness  of  Pembroke,  and  bestow 
upon  you  a thousand  marks  a year  in  land,  and  another 
thousand  to  be  paid  out  of  my  treasury  to  support  your 
dignity.” 

“Your  majesty  is  too  generous,”  replied  Anne,  bending 
the  knee,  and  kissing  his  hand. 

“Not  a whit,  sweetheart — not  a whit,”  replied  Henry, 
tenderly  raising  her ; “ this  is  but  a slight  mark  of  my 
good  will.  Sir  Thomas  Boleyn,”  he  added,  to  her  father, 
“ henceforth  your  style  and  title  will  be  that  of  Viscount 
Rochford,  and  your  patent  will  be  made  out  at  the  same 
time  as  that  of  your  daughter  the  Marchioness  of  Pem- 
broke. I also  elect  you  a knight-companion  of  the  most 
honorable  Order  of  the  Garter,  and  your  investiture  and 
installation  will  take  place  to  day.” 

Having  received  the  thanks  and  homage  of  the  newly- 
created  noble,  Henry  descended  from  the  canopy,  and 
passed  into  an  inner  room  with  the  Lady  Anne,  where  a 
collation  was  prepared  for  them.  Their  slight  meal  over, 
Anne  took  up  her  lute,  and  playing  a lively  prelude,  sang 
two  or  three  French  songs  with  so  much  skill  and  grace, 
that  Henry,  who  was  passionately  fond  of  music,  was 
quite  enraptured.  Two  delightful  hours  having  passed 
by,  almost  imperceptibly,  an  usher  approached  the  king, 
and  whispering  a few  words  to  him,  he  reluctantly  with- 
drew, and  Anne  retired  with  her  ladies  to  an  inner  apart- 
ment. 

On  reaching  his  closet,  the  king’s  attendants  proceeded 
to  array  him  in  a surcoat  of  crimson  velvet,  powdered 
with  garters  embroidered  in  silk  and  gold,  with  the 
motto,— goni  $0it  quintal  t)  pcn^jet — wrought  within  them. 
Over  the  surcoat  was  thrown  a mantle  of  blue  velvet  with 
a magnificent  train,  lined  with  white  damask,  and  having 
on  the  left  shoulder  a large  garter,  wrought  in  pearls  and 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


45 


Venice  twists,  containing  the  motto,  and  encircling  the 
arms  of  Saint  George — argent,  a cross  gules.  The  royal 
habiliments  were  completed  by  a hood  of  the  same  stuff 
as  the  surcoat,  decorated  like  it  with  small  embroidered 
garters,  and  lined  with  white  satin.  From  the  king’s 
neck  was  suspended  the  collar  of  the  Great  George,  com- 
posed of  pieces  of  gold,  fashioned  like  garters,  the  ground^ 
of  which  was  enameled,  and  the  letters  gold. 

While  Henry  was  thus  arrayed,  the  knights-companions, 
robed  in  their  mantles,  hoods,  and  collars,  entered  the 
closet,  and  waiting  till  he  was  ready,  marched  before  him 
into  the  presence-chamber,  where  were  assembled  the  two 
provincial  kings-at-arms,  Clarenceux  and  Norroy,  the 
heralds,  and  pursuivants,  wearing  their  coats-of-arms, 
together  with  the  band  of  pensioners,  carrying  gilt  pole- 
axes, and  drawn  up  in  two  lines.  At  the  king’s  approach, 
one  of  the  gentlemen-ushers  who  carried  the  sword  of 
state,  with  the  point  resting  upon  the  ground,  delivered 
it  to  the  Duke  of  Richmond, — the  latter  having  been  ap- 
pointed to  bear  it  before  the  king  during  all  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  feast.  Meanwhile,  the  knights-companions 
having  drawn  up  on  either  side  of  the  canopy,  Henry 
advanced  with  a slow  and  stately  step  towards  it,  his 
train  borne  by  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat, 
and  other  nobles  and  knights.  As  he  ascended  the 
canopy,  and  faced  the  assemblage,  the  Duke  of  Richmond 
and  the  chief  officers  of  the  order  drew  up  a little  on  his 
right.  The  knights-companions  then  made  their  saluta- 
tion to  him,  which  he  returned  by  removing  his  jeweled 
cap  with  infinite  grace  and  dignity ; and  as  soon  as  he 
was  again  covered,  they  put  on  their  caps,  and  rang- 
ing themselves  in  order,  set  forward  to  Saint  George’s 
Chapel. 

Quitting  the  royal  lodgings,  and  passing  through  the 
gateway  of  the  Norman  Tower,  the  procession  wound  its 


46 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


way  along  the  base  of  the  Round  Tower,  the  battlements 
of  which  bristled  with  spearmen,  as  did  the  walls  on  the 
right,  and  the  summit  of  the  Winchester  Tower,  and 
crossing  the  middle- ward,  skirted  the  tomb-house,  then 
newly  erected  by  Wolsey,  and  threading  a narrow  pas- 
sage, between  it  and  Saint  George’s  Chapel,  entered  the 
northeast  door  of  the  latter  structure. 

Dividing,  on  their  entrance  into  the  chapel,  into  two 
lines,  the  attendants  of  the  knights-companions  flanked 
either  side  of  the  north  aisle ; while  between  them  walked 
the  alms-knights,  the  verger,  the  prebends  of  the  college, 
and  the  oflicers-of-arms,  who  proceeded  as  far  as  the  west 
door  of  the  choir,  where  they  stopped.  A slight  pause 
then  ensued,  after  which,  the  king,  the  knights-com- 
panions, and  the  chief  officers  of  the  order,  entered  the 
chapter-house — a chamber  situated  at  the  northeast 
corner  of  the  chapel — leaving  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  the 
sword-bearer,  Lord  Rochford,  the  knight-elect,  the  train- 
bearers,  and  pensioners,  outside.  The  door  of  the  chapter- 
house  being  closed  by  the  black-rod,  the  king  proceeded 
to  the  upper  end  of  the  vestments’-board — as  the  table  was 
designated,— where  a chair,  cushions,  and  cloth  of  state, 
were  provided  for  him ; the  knights-companions,  whose 
stalls  in  the  choir  were  on  the  same  side  as  his  own,  seat- 
ing themselves  on  his  right,  and  those  whose  posts  were 
on  the  prince’s  side  taking  their  places  on  the  left.  The 
prelate  and  the  chancellor  stood  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
table  ; the  garter  and  register  at  the  foot ; while  the  door 
was  kept  by  the  black-rod. 

As  soon  as  the  king  and  the  knights  were  seated,  in- 
timation was  given  by  an  usher  to  the  black-rod,  that  the 
newly-elected  knight,  Lord  Rochford,  was  without.  This 
intelligence  being  communicated  to  the  king,  he  ordered 
the  Dukes  of  Suffolk  and.  Norfolk  to  bring  him  into  his 
presence.  The  injunction  was  obeyed,  and  the  knight- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


47 


elect  presently  made  his  appearance,  the  garter  marching 
before  him  to  the  king.  Bowing  reverently  to  the  sover- 
eign, Rochford,  in  a brief  speech,  expressed  his  gratitude 
for  the  signal  honor  conferred  upon  him,  and  at  its  close, 
set  his  left  foot  upon  a gilt  stool,  placed  for  him  by  the 
garter,  who  pronounced  the  following  admonition  : — “ My 
good  lord,  the  loving  company  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter 
have  received  you  as  their  brother  and  fellow.  In  token 
whereof,  they  give  you  this  garter,  which  God  grant 
you  may  receive  and  wear  from  henceforth,  to  His  praise 
and  glory,  and  to  the  exaltation  and  honor  of  the  noble 
order  and  yourself.” 

Meanwhile,  the  garter  was  girded  on  the  leg  of  the 
newly-elected  knight,  and  buckled  by  the  Duke  of  Suf- 
folk. This  done,  he  knelt  before  the  king,  who  hung  a 
gold  chain,  with  the  image  of  Saint  George  attached  to  it, 
about  his  neck,  while  another  admonition  was  pronounced 
by  the  chancellor.  Rochford  then  arose,  bowed  to  the 
monarch,  and  to  the  knights-companions,  who  returned 
his  salutations,  and  the  investiture  was  complete. 

Other  affairs  of  the  chapter  were  next  discussed.  Cer- 
tain officers,  nominated  since  the  last  meeting,  were 
sworn ; letters  from  absent  knights-companions,  praying 
to  be  excused  from  attendance,  were  read — and  their 
pleas,  except  in  the  instance  of  Sir  Thomas  Cheney,  al- 
lowed. After  reading  the  excuse  of  the  latter,  Henry 
uttered  an  angry  oath,  declaring  he  would  deprive 
him  of  his  vote  in  the  chapter-house,  banish  him  from  his 
stall,  and  mulct  him  a hundred  marks,  to  be  paid  at  Saint 
George’s  altar,  when  Will  Sommers,  who  was  permitted 
to  be  present,  whispered  in  his  ear  that  the  offender  was 
kept  away  by  the  devices  of  Wolsey,  because  he  was 
known  to  be  friendly  to  the  divorce,  and  to  the  interests 
of  the  Lady  Anne. 

44  Aha ! by  Saint  Mary,  is  it  so  ? ” exclaimed  Henry, 


48 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


knitting  his  brows.  “ This  shall  he  looked  into.  I have 
hanged  a butcher  just  now.  Let  the  butcher’s  son  take 
warning  by  his  fate.  He  has  bearded  me  long  enough. 
See  that  Sir  Thomas  Cheney  be  sent  for  with  all  dispatch. 
I will  hear  the  truth  from  his  own  lips.” 

He  then  arose,  and  quitting  the  chapter-house,  pro- 
ceeded with  the  knights-companions  to  the  choir, — the 
roof  and  walls  of  the  sacred  structure  resounding  with 
the  solemn  notes  of  the  organ  as  they  traversed  the  aisle. 
The  first  to  enter  the  choir  were  the  alms-knights,  who 
passed  through  the  door  in  a body,  and  making  low 
obeisances  toward  the  altar  and  the  royal  stall,  divided 
into  two  lines.  They  were  succeeded  by  the  prebends  of 
the  college,  who,  making  similar  obeisances,  stationed 
themselves  in  front  of  the  benches  before  the  stalls  of  the 
knights-companions.  Next  followed  the  pursuivants, 
heralds,  and  provincial  kings-of-arms,  making  like  rever- 
ences, and  ranging  themselves  with  the  alms-knights. 
Then  came  the  knights-companions,  who  performed 
double  reverences  like  the  others,  and  took  their  stations 
under  their  stalls ; then  came  the  black-rod,  garter,  and 
register,  who  having  gone  through  the  same  ceremony  as 
the  others,  proceeded  to  their  form,  which  was  placed  on 
the  south  side  of  the  choir  before  the  sovereign’s  stall ; 
then  came  the  chancellor  and  prelate,  whose  form  was 
likewise  placed  before  the  royal  stall,  but  nearer  to  it 
than  that  allotted  to  the  other  officers  ; and  lastly,  Henry 
himself,  with  the  sword  borne  before  him  by  the  Duke  of 
Richmond,  who,  as  he  approached  the  steps  of  his  stall, 
bowed  reverently  towards  the  altar,  and  made  another 
obeisance  before  seating  himself. 

Meanwhile,  the  Duke  of  Richmond  posted  himself  in 
front  of  the  royal  stall,  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  as  lord-cham- 
berlain, taking  his  station  on  the  king’s  right,  and  the 
Earl  of  Surrey,  as  vice-chamberlain,  on  the  left.  As 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  49 

these  arrangements  were  made,  the  two  cardinals  arrived, 
and  proceeded  to  the  altar. 

Mass  was  then  said,  and  nothing  could  be  more  strik- 
ing than  the  appearance  of  the  chapel  during  its  per- 
formance. The  glorious  choir  with  its  groined  and  pen- 
dent roof,  its  walls  adorned  with  the  richest  stuffs,  its 
exquisitely  carved  stalls,  above  which  hung  the  banners 
of  the  knights-companions,  together  with  their  helmets, 
crests,  and  swords,  its  sumptuously-decorated  altar,  glit- 
tering with  costly  vessels,  its  pulpit  hung  with  crimson 
damask  interwoven  with  gold,  the  magnificent  and  varied 
dresses  of  the  assemblage, — all  these  constituted  a picture 
of  surpassing  splendor. 

Vespers  over,  the  king  and  his  train  departed  with  the 
same  ceremonies,  and  in  the  same  order  as  had  been  ob- 
served on  their  entrance  of  the  choir. 

On  returning  to  the  royal  lodgings,  Henry  proceeded 
to  his  closet,  where  having  divested  himself  of  his  mantle, 
he  went  in  search  of  the  Lady  Anne.  He  found  her 
walking  with  her  dames  on  the  stately  terrace  at  the 
north  of  the  castle,  and  the  attendants  retiring  as  he 
joined  her,  he  was  left  at  full  liberty  for  amorous  con- 
verse. After  pacing  the  terrace  for  some  time,  he  ad- 
journed with  Anne  to  her  own  apartments,  where  he 
remained  till  summoned  to  supper  with  the  knight- com- 
panions in  Saint  George’s  Hall. 

The  next  morning  betimes,  it  being  the  day  of  the 
patron  saint  of  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  a numerous  cav- 
alcade assembled  in  the  upper  ward  of  the  castle,  to  con- 
duct the  king  to  hear  matins  in  Saint  George’s  Chapel. 
In  order  to  render  the  sight  as  imposing  as  possible, 
Henry  had  arranged  that  the  procession  should  take 
place  on  horseback,  and  the  whole  of  the  retinue  were 
accordingly  mounted.  The  large  quadrangle  was  filled 
with  steeds  and  their  attendants,  and  the  castle  wall  re- 


50 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


sounded  with  the  fanfares  of  trumpets,  and  the  beating  of 
kettle-drums.  The  most  attractive  feature  of  the  proces- 
sion in  the  eyes  of  the  beholders  was  the  Lady  Anne,  who, 
mounted  on  a snow-white  palfrey  richly  trapped,  rode 
on  the  right  of  the  king.  She  was  dressed  in  a rich 
gown  of  raised  cloth  of  gold ; and  had  a coronet  of  black 
velvet,  decorated  with  orient  pearls,  on  her  head.  Never 
had  she  looked  so  lovely  as  on  this  occasion,  and  the 
king’s  passion  increased  as  he  gazed  upon  her.  Henry 
himself  was  more  sumptuously  attired  than  on  the  pre- 
ceding day.  He  wore  a robe  of  purple  velvet  made  some- 
what like  a frock,  embroidered  with  flat  damask  gold, 
and  small  lace  intermixed.  His  doublet  was  very  curi- 
ously embroidered,  the  sleeves  and  breast  being  lined 
with  cloth  of  gold,  and  fastened  with  great  buttons  of 
diamonds  and  rubies.  His  sword  and  girdle  were  adorned 
with  magnificent  emeralds,  and  his  bonnet  glistened  with 
precious  stones.  His  charger  was  trapped  in  cloth  of 
gold,  traversed  lattice- wise,  square,  embroidered  with  gold 
damask,  pearled  on  every  side,  and  having  buckles  and 
pendants  of  fine  gold.  By  his  side  ran  ten  footmen, 
richly  attired  in  velvet  and  goldsmiths’  work.  They  were 
followed  by  the  pages  of  honor,  mounted  on  great  horses, 
trapped  in  crimson  velvet  embroidered  with  new  devices 
and  knots  of  gold. 

In  this  state,  Henry  and  his  favorite  proceeded  to  the 
? great  western  door  of  Saint  George’s  Chapel.  Here  twelve 
gentlemen  of  the  privy-chamber  attended  with  a canopy 
of  cloth  of  gold,  which  they  bore  over  the  king’s  head, 
and  that  of  the  Lady  Anne,  as  she  walked  beside  him  to 
the  entrance  of  the  choir,  where  they  separated — he  pro- 
ceeding to  his  stall,  and  she  to  a closet  at  the  northeast 
corner  of  the  choir  over  the  altar,  while  her  ladies  re- 
paired to  one  adjoining  it. 

Matins  then  commenced,  and  at  the  appointed  part  of 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


51 


the  service,  the  dean  of  the  college  took  a silver  box,  con- 
taining the  heart  of  Saint  George,  bestowed  upon  King 
Henry  the  Fifth  by  the  Emperor  Sigismund,  and  after  in- 
cense had  been  shed  upon  it  by  one  of  the  canons* 
presented  it  to  the  king  and  the  knights- companions 
to  kiss. 

After  the  offertory,  a carpet  was  spread  on  the  steps 
before  the  altar,  the  alms-knights,  pursuivants,  and  heralds 
stationing  themselves  on  either  side  of  it.  The  garter 
then  descended  from  his  seat,  and  waving  his  rod,  the 
knights-companions  descended  likewise,  but  remained 
before  their  stalls.  The  black-rod  next  descended,  and 
proceeding  towards  the  altar,  a groom  of  the  wardrobe 
brought  him  a small  carpet  of  cloth  of  gold,  and  a cushion 
of  the  same  stuff,  which  were  placed  on  the  larger  carpet^ 
the  cushion  being  set  on  the  head  of  the  steps.  Taking 
a large  gilt  bason  to  receive  the  offerings,  the  prelate 
stationed  himself  with  one  of  the  prebends  in  the  midst 
of  the  altar.  The  king  then  rose  from  his  stall,  and  mak- 
ing a reverence  as  before,  proceeded  to  the  altar  attended 
by  the  garter,  register,  and  chancellor,  together  with  the 
Duke  of  Richmond,  bearing  the  sword,  and  having  reached 
the  upper  step,  prostrated  himself  on  the  cushion,  while 
the  black-rod  bending  the  knee  delivered  a chain  of  gold, 
intended  afterwards  to  be  redeemed,  to  the  Duke  of 
Suffolk,  who  was  appointed  to  make  the  royal  offering, 
and  who  placed  it  in  the  bason  held  by  the  prelate.  This 
ceremony  over,  the  king  got  up,  and  with  similar  rever- 
ences returned  to  his  stall.  Then  the  two  provincial 
kings,  Clarenceux  and  Norroy,  proceeded  along  the  choir, 
and  making  due  reverences  to  the  altar  and  the  sovereign, 
bowed  to  the  two  senior  knights,  who  thereupon  advanced 
towards  the  altar,  and  kneeling  down,  made  their  offering. 
The  others  imitated  their  example,  coming  forward  ac- 
cording to  their  seniority. 


52 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


The  service  ended,  the  officers  and  knights-companions 
quitted  the  chapel  in  the  same  order  they  had  entered  it, 
the  king  being  received  under  the  canopy  at  the  door  of 
the  choir,  and  passing  through  the  west  entrance  of  the 
chapel,  where  he  waited  for  the  Lady  Anne.  On  her  ar- 
rival, they  both  mounted  their  steeds,  and  rode  up  to  the 
royal  lodgings  amid  flourishes  of  trumpets  and  acclama- 
tions. Dismounting  at  the  great  gate,  Henry  proceeded 
to  the  presence-chamber,  where  the  knights-companions 
had  assembled,  and  having  received  their  salutations,  re- 
tired to  his  closet.  Here  he  remained  in  deep  consulta- 
tion with  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  for  some  hours,  when  it 
having  been  announced  to  him  that  the  first  course  of  the 
banquet  was  served,  he  came  forth,  and  proceeded  to  the 
presence-chamber,  where  he  greeted  the  knights-compan- 
ions, who  were  there  assembled,  and  who  immediately 
put  themselves  in  order  of  procession.  After  this,  the 
alms-knights,  prebends,  and  officers  of  arms,  passed  on 
through  the  guard-chamber  into  Saint  George’s  Hall. 
They  were  followed  by  the  knights-companions,  who  drew 
up  in  double  file,  the  seniors  taking  the  uppermost  place ; 
and  through  these  lines  the  king  passed,  his  train  borne 
up  as  before,  until  reaching  the  table  set  apart  for  him, 
beneath  a canopy,  he  turned  round,  and  received  the 
knights’  reverences.  The  Earl  of  Oxford,  as  vice-chamber- 
lain, then  brought  him  a ewer  containing  water,  the  Earl 
of  Surrey  a basin,  and  Lord  Rochford  a napkin.  Henry 
having  performed  his  ablutions,  grace  was  said  by  the 
prelate,  after  which  the  king  seated  himself  beneath  the 
canopy  in  an  ancient  chair  with  a curiously-carved  back 
representing  the  exploit  of  Saint  George,  which  had  once 
belonged  to  the  founder,  King  Edward  the  Third,  and 
called  up  the  two  cardinals,  who  by  this  time  had  entered 
the  hall,  and  who  remained  standing  beside  him,  one  on 
either  hand,  during  the  repast, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


53 


As  soon  as  the  king  was  seated,  the  knights-companions 
put  on  their  caps,  and  retired  to  the  table  prepared  for 
them,  on  the  right  side  of  the  hall,  where  they  seated 
themselves,  according  to  their  degree ; — the  Duke  of 
Richmond  occupying  the  first  place,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk 
the  second,  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  the  third.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  hall  was  a long  beaufet  covered  with 
flasks  of  wine,  meats,  and  dishes,  for  the  service  of  the 
knights’  table.  Before  this  stood  the  attendants,  near 
whom  were  drawn  up  two  lines  of  pensioners  bearing  the 
second  course  on  great  gilt  dishes,  and  headed  by  the 
sewer.  In  front  of  the  sewer  were  the  treasurer,  and 
comptroller  of  the  household,  each  bearing  a white  wand. 
Next  them  stood  the  officers-of-arms,  in  two  lines,  headed 
by  the  garter.  The  bottom  of  the  hall  was  thronged  with 
yeomen  of  the  guard,  halberdiers,  and  henchmen.  In  a 
gallery  at  the  lower  end  were  stationed  a band  of  min- 
strels ; and  near  them  sat  the  Lady  Anne  and  her  dames 
to  view  the  proceedings. 

The  appearance  of  the  hall  during  the  banquet  was 
magnificent ; the  upper  part  being  hung  with  arras  repre- 
senting the  legend  of  Saint  George,  placed  there  by  Henry 
the  Sixth ; and  the  walls  behind  the  knights-companions 
adorned  with  other  tapestries  and  rich  stuffs. 

The  tables  groaned  with  the  weight  of  dishes,  some 
of  which  may  be  enumerated  for  the  benefit  of  mod- 
ern gastronomers.  There  were  Georges  on  horseback, 
chickens  in  brewis,  cygnets,  capons  of  high  grease,  carpes 
of  venison,  herons,  calvered  salmon,  custards  planted  with 
garters,  tarts  closed  with  arms,  godwits,  peafowl,  halibut 
engrailed,  porpoise  in  armor,  pickled  mullets,  perch  in 
foyle,  venison  pasties,  hypocras  jelly,  and  mainemy  royal. 

Before  the  second  course  was  served,  the  garter,  fol- 
lowed by  Clarenceux  and  Norroy,  together  with  the 
heralds  and  pursuivants,  advanced  towards  the  sover- 


54 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


eign’s  canopy,  and  cried  thrice,  in  a loud  voice,  “ Lar- 
gesse ! ” 

Upon  this,  all  the  knights-companions  arose  and  took 
off  their  caps.  The  garter  then  proceeded  to  proclaim 
the  king’s  titles  in  Latin  and  French,  and  lastly  in 
English,  as  follows : — “ Of  the  most  high,  most  excellent, 
and  most  mighty  monarch,  Henry  the  Eighth,  by  the 
grace  of  God,  King  of  England,  France,  and  Ireland,  De- 
fender of  the  Faith,  and  sovereign  of  the  most  noble 
Order  of  the  Garter.” 

This  proclamation  made,  the  treasurer  of  the  household 
put  ten  golden  marks  into  the  garter’s  cap,  who  making  a 
reverence  to  the  sovereign,  retired  from  the  hall  with  his 
followers. 

“ Come,  my  lord  legate,”  said  Henry,  when  this  cere- 
mony was  at  an  end ; “ we  will  drink  to  my  future  queen. 
What  ho ! wine  ! ” he  added,’  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  who 
officiated  as  cup-bearer. 

“ Your  highness  is  not  yet  divorced  from  your  present 
consort,”  replied  Campeggio.  “ If  it  please  you  I should 
prefer  drinking  the  health  of  Catherine  of  Aragon.” 

“Well,  as  your  eminence  pleases,”  replied  the  king, 
taking  the  goblet  from  the  hand  of  Surrey ; “ I shall  not 
constrain  you.” 

And  looking  towards  the  gallery,  he  fixed  his  eyes  on 
the  Lady  Anne,  and  drained  the  cup  to  the  last  drop. 

“ Would  it  were  poison,”  muttered  Sir  Thomas  Wyat, 
who  stood  behind  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  and  witnessed  what 
was  passing, 

“ Give  not  thy  treasonable  thoughts  vent,  gossip,”  said 
Will  Sommers,  who  formed  one  of  the  group  near  the 
royal  table,  “ or  it  may  chance  that  some  one  less  friend- 
ly-disposed towards  thee  than  myself  may  overhear 
them.  I tell  thee,  the  Lady  Anne  is  lost  to  thee  forever. 
Tliink’st  thou  aught  of  womankind  would  hesitate 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


55 


between  a simple  knight  and  a king  ? My  lord  duke,”  he 
added,  sharply,  to  Richmond,  who  was  looking  round  at 
him,  46  you  would  rather  be  in  yonder  gallery  than  here.” 

“ Why  so,  knave  ? ” asked  the  duke. 

“ Because  the  fair  Geraldine  is  there,”  replied  the 
jester.  44  And  yet  your  grace  is  not  the  person  she  would 
most  desire  to  have  with  her.” 

44  Whom  would  she  prefer  ? ” inquired  the  duke, 
angrily. 

The  jester  nodded  at  Surrey,  and  laughed  maliciously. 

44  You  heard  the  health  given  by  the  king  just  now,  my 
lord,”  observed  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  to  his  neighbor  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk;  44 it  was  a shrewd  hint  to  the  lord 
legate  which  way  his  judgment  should  incline.  Your 
niece  will  assuredly  be  queen  of  England.” 

44 1 did  not  note  what  was  said,  my  lord,”  replied  Nor- 
folk ; 44 1 pray  you  repeat  it  to  me.” 

Suffolk  complied,  and  they  continued  in  close  debate 
until  the  termination  of  the  banquet,  when  the  king 
having  saluted  the  company,  returned  to  the  presence- 
chamber. 


56 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OF  THE  GHOSTLY  CHASE  BEHELD  BY  THE  EARL  OF  SURREY 
AND  THE  DUKE  OF  RICHMOND,  IN  WINDSOR  FOREST. 

On  that  same  night,  and  just  as  the  castle  clock  was  on 
the  stroke  of  twelve,  the  Earl  of  Surrey  and  the  Duke  of 
Richmond  issued  from  the  upper  gate,  and  took  their 
way  towards  Herne’s  oak.  The  moon  was  shining 
brightly,  and  its  beams  silvered  the  foliage  of  the  noble 
trees  with  which  the  park  was  studded.  The  youthful 
friends  soon  reached  the  blasted  tree ; but  nothing  was  to 
be  seen  near  it,  and  all  looked  so  tranquil,  so  free  from 
malignant  influence,  that  the  Duke  of  Richmond  could 
not  help  laughing  at  his  companion,  telling  him  that  the 
supposed  vision  must  have  been  the  offspring  of  his  over- 
excited fancy.  Angry  at  being  thus  doubted,  the  earl 
walked  off,  and  plunged  into  the  haunted  dell.  The  duke 
followed,  but  though  they  paused  for  some  time  beneath 
the  gnarled  oak  tree,  the  spirit  did  not  appear. 

“ And  thus  ends  the  adventure  of  Herne  the  hunter  ! ” 
laughed  the  duke,  as  they  emerged  from  the  brake.  “ By 
my  halidom,  Surrey,  I am  grievously  disappointed.  You 
must  have  mistaken  some  large  stag,  caught  by  its  antlers 
in  the  branches  of  the  oak  tree,  for  the  demon.” 

“I  have  told  you  precisely  what  occurred,”  replied 
Surrey,  angrily.  “ Ha  ! there  he  is — look ! look ! ” 

And  he  pointed  to  a weird  figure,  mounted  on  a steed 
as  weird-looking  as  itself,  galloping  through  the  trees 
with  extraordinary  swiftness,  at  a little  distance  from 
them.  This  ghostly  rider  wore  the  antlered  helmet  de- 
scribed by  Surrey,  and  seemed  to  be  habited  in  a garb 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


57 

of  deer  skins.  Before  him  flew  a large  owl,  and  a couple 
of  great  black  dogs  ran  beside  him.  Staring  in  speechless 
wonder  at  the  sight,  the  two  youths  watched  the  mysteri- 
ous being  scour  a glade  brightly  illumined  by  the  moon, 
until  reaching  the  pales  marking  the  confines  of  the 
Home  Park,  he  leaped  them,  and  disappeared. 

“ What  think  you  of  that  ? ” cried  Surrey,  as  soon  as  he 
had  recovered  from  his  surprise,  glancing  triumphantly 
at  the  duke.  “ Was  that  the  offspring  of  my  fancy  ? ” 

“ It  was  a marvelous  sight,  truly ! ” exclaimed  Rich- 
mond. “ Would  we  had  our  steeds  to  follow  him  ! 55 

w We  can  follow  him  on  foot,”  replied  the  earl — “ he  is 
evidently  gone  into  the  forest.” 

And  they  set  off  at  a quick  pace  in  the  direction  taken 
by  the  ghostly  rider.  Clambering  the  park  pales,  they 
crossed  the  road  leading  to  Old  Windsor,  and  entered 
that  part  of  the  forest  which,  in  more  recent  times,  has 
been  enclosed  and  allotted  to  the  grounds  of  Frogmore. 
Tracking  a long  vista,  they  came  to  a thick  dell,  over- 
grown with  large  oaks,  at  the  bottom  of  which  lay  a 
small  pool.  Fleeter  than  his  companion,  and  therefore 
somewhat  in  advance  of  him,  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  as  he 
approached  this  dell,  perceived  the  spectral  huntsman 
and  his  dogs  standing  at  the  edge  of  the  water.  The 
earl  instantly  shouted  to  him,  and  the  horseman  turning 
his  head,  shook  his  hand  menacingly,  while  the  hounds 
glared  fiercely  at  the  intruder,  and  displayed  their  fangs, 
but  did  not  bark.  As  Surrey,  however,  despite  this  cau- 
tion, continued  to  advance,  the  huntsman  took  a strange- 
ly-shaped horn  that  hung  by  his  side,  and  placing  it  to 
his  lips,  flames  and  thick  smoke  presently  issued  from  it, 
and  before  the  vapor  had  cleared  off,  he  and  his  dogs  had 
disappeared.  The  witnesses  of  this  marvelous  spectacle 
crossed  themselves  reverently,  and  descended  to  the  brink 
of  the  pool;  but  the  numerous  footprints  of  deer, 


58 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


that  came  there  to  drink,  prevented  them  from  distin- 
guishing any  marks  of  the  steed  of  the  ghostly  hunter. 

“ Shall  we  return,  Surrey  ? ” asked  the  duke. 

“No,”  replied  the  earl;  “ I am  persuaded  we  shall  see 
the  mysterious  huntsman  again.  You  can  return,  if  you 
think  proper.  I will  go  on.” 

“Nay,  I will  not  leave  you,”  rejoined  Richmond. 

And  they  set  off  again  at  the  same  quick  pace  as  before. 
Mounting  a hill  covered  with  noble  beeches  and  elms,  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  castle  burst  upon  them,  towering 
over  the  groves  they  had  tracked,  and  looking  almost 
like  the  work  of  enchantment.  Charmed  with  the  view, 
the  young  men  continued  to  contemplate  it  for  some  time. 
They  then  struck  off  on  the  right,  and  ascended  still 
higher,  until  they  came  to  a beautiful  grove  of  beeches 
cresting  the  hill  where  the  equestrian  statue  of  George  the 
Third  is  now  placed.  Skirting  this  grove,  they  disturbed 
a herd  of  deer,  which  started  up,  and  darted  into  the 
valley  below. 

At  the  foot  of  two  fine  beech-trees  lay  another  small 
pool,  and  Surrey  almost  expected  to  see  the  spectral 
huntsman  beside  it. 

From  this  spot  they  could  discern  the  whole  of  the 
valley  beyond,  and  they  scanned  it  in  the  hope  of  perceiv- 
ing the  object  of  their  search.  Though  not  comparable 
to  the  view  on  the  nearer  side,  the  prospect  was  never- 
theless exceedingly  beautiful.  Long  vistas  and  glades 
stretched  out  before  them,  while  in  the  far  distance  might 
be  seen  glittering  in  the  moonbeams  the  lake  or  mere, 
which  in  later  days  has  received  the  name  of  Virginia 
W ater. 

While  they  were  gazing  at  this  scene,  a figure  habited 
like  a keeper  of  the  forest  suddenly  emerged  from  the 
trees  at  the  lower  end  of  one  of  the  glades.  Persuaded 
that  this  person  had  some  mysterious  connection  with  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


59 


ghostly  huntsman,  the  earl  determined  to  follow  him,  and 
hastily  mentioning  his  suspicions  and  design  to  Richmond, 
he  hurried  down  the  hill.  But  before  he  accomplished 
the  descent,  the  keeper  was  gone.  At  length,  however, 
on  looking  about,  they  perceived  him  mounting  the  rising 
ground  on  the  left,  and  immediately  started  after  him, 
taking  care  to  keep  out  of  sight.  The  policy  of  this  course 
was  soon  apparent.  Supposing  himself  no  longer  pursued, 
the  keeper  relaxed  his  pace,  and  the  others  got  nearer  to 
him. 

In  this  way  both  parties  went  on,  the  keeper  still  hurry- 
ing forward,  every  now  and  then  turning  his  head  to  see 
whether  any  one  was  on  his  track,  until  he  came  to  a road 
cut  through  the  trees,  that  brought  him  to  the  edge  of  a 
descent  leading  to  the  lake.  Just  at  this  moment,  a cloud 
passed  over  the  moon,  burying  all  in  comparative  ob- 
scurity. The  watchers,  however,  could  perceive  the  keeper 
approach  an  ancient  beech-tree  of  enormous  growth,  and 
strike  it  thrice  with  the  short  hunting-spear  which  he 
held  in  his  grasp. 

The  signal  remaining  unanswered,  he  quitted  the  tree, 
and  shaped  his  course  along  the  side  of  a hill  on  the  right. 
Keeping  under  the  shelter  of  the  thicket  on  the  top  of  the 
same  hill,  Surrey  and  Richmond  followed,  and  saw  him 
direct  his  steps  towards  another  beech-tree  of  almost 
double  the  girth  of  that  he  had  just  visited.  Arrived  at 
this  mighty  tree,  he  struck  it  with  his  spear,  while  a large 
owl,  seated  on  a leafless  branch,  began  to  hoot ; a bat 
circled  the  tree ; and  two  large  snakes,  glistening  in  the 
moonlight,  glided  from  its  roots.  As  the  tree  was  stricken 
for  the  third  time,  the  same  weird  figure  that  the  watch- 
ers had  seen  ride  along  the  home  park  burst  from  its  rifted 
trunk,  and  addressed  its  summoner  in  tones  apparently 
menacing  and  imperious,  but  whose  import  was  lost  upon 
the  listeners.  The  curiosity  of  the  beholders  was  roused 


60 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


to  the  highest  pitch ; but  an  undeflnable  awe  prevented 
them  from  rushing  forward. 

Suddenly,  the  demon-hunter  waved  a pike  with  which 
he  was  armed,  and  uttered  a peculiar  cry,  resembling  the 
hooting  of  an  owl.  At  this  sound,  and  as  if  by  magic,  a 
couple  of  steeds,  accompanied  by  the  two  hounds,  started 
from  the  brake.  In  an  instant,  the  demon  huntsman 
vaulted  upon  the  back  of  the  horse  nearest  to  him,  and 
the  keeper  almost  as  quickly  mounted  the  other.  The 
pair  then  galloped  off  through  the  glen,  the  owl  flying 
before  them,  and  the  hounds  coursing  by  their  side. 

The  two  friends  gazed  at  each  other,  for  some  time,  in 
speechless  wonder.  Taking  heart,  they  then  descended  to 
the  haunted  tree,  but  could  perceive  no  traces  of  the  strange 
being  by  whom  it  had  been  recently  tenanted.  After 
a while,  they  retraced  their  course  towards  the  castle, 
hoping  they  might  once  more  encounter  the  wild  hunts- 
men. Nor  were  they  disappointed.  As  they  crossed  a 
glen,  a noble  stag  darted  by.  Close  at  its  heels  came  the 
two  black  hounds,  and  after  them  the  riders  hurrying  for- 
ward at  a furious  pace,  their  steeds  appearing  to  breathe 
forth  flame  and  smoke. 

In  an  instant,  the  huntsmen  and  hounds  were  gone, 
and  the  trampling  of  the  horses  died  away  in  the  distance. 
Soon  afterwards,  a low  sound,  like  the  winding  of  a horn, 
broke  upon  the  ear,  and  the  listeners  had  no  doubt  that 
the  buck  was  brought  down.  They  hurried  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  sound,  but  though  the  view  was  wholly  unob- 
structed for  a considerable  distance,  they  could  see  noth- 
ing of  either  horsemen,  hounds,  or  deer. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


61 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW  THE  FAIR  GERALDINE  BESTOWED  A RELIC  UPON  HER 

LOVER. HOW  SURREY  AND  RICHMOND  RODE  IN  THE  FOREST 

AT  MIDNIGHT, AND  WHERE  THEY  FOUND  THE  BODY  OF 

MARK  FYTTON,  THE  BUTCHER. 

Surrey  and  Richmond  agreed  to  say  nothing  for  the 
present  of  their  mysterious  adventure  in  the  forest ; but 
their  haggard  looks,  as  they  presented  themselves  to  the 
Lady  Anne  Boleyn  in  the  reception-chamber,  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning,  proclaimed  that  something  had  happened, 
and  they  had  to  undergo  much  questioning  from  the  fair 
Geraldine  and  the  Lady  Mary  Howard. 

“ I never  saw  you  so  out  of  spirits,  my  lord,”  remarked 
the  fair  Geraldine  to  Surrey ; “ you  must  have  spent  the 
whole  night  in  study — or  what  is  more  profitable,  you 
have  again  seen  Herne  the  hunter.  Confess  now,  you  have 
been  in  the  forest.” 

“ I will  confess  anything  you  please,”  replied  Surrey, 
evasively. 

“ And  what  have  you  seen  ? — a stranger  vision  than  the 
first?”  rejoined  the  fair  Geraldine. 

“ Since  your  ladyship  answers  for  me,  there  is  no  need 
for  explanation  on  my  part,”  rejoined  Surrey,  with  a faint 
laugh.  “ And  know  you  not,  that  those  who  encounter 
supernatural  beings  are  generally  bound  to  profound 
secrecy  ? ” 

“ Such,  I hope,  is  not  your  case,  Henry  ? ” cried  the 
Lady  Mary  Howard,  in  alarm  ; — “ nor  yours,  my  lord  ? ” 
she  added,  to  the  Duke  of  Richmond. 

“ I am  bound  equally  with  Surrey,”  returned  the  Duke, 
mysteriously. 


62 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ You  pique  my  curiosity,  my  lords,”  said  the  fair 
Geraldine ; “ and  since  there  is  no  other  way  of  gratifying 
it,  if  the  Lady  Mary  Howard  will  accompany  me,  we  will 
ourselves  venture  into  the  forest,  and  try  whether  we  can- 
not have  a meeting  with  this  wild  huntsman.  Shall  we 
go  to-night?” 

“ Not  for  worlds,”  replied  the  Lady  Mary,  shuddering  ; 
“ were  I to  see  Herne,  I should  die  of  fright.” 

“ Your  alarm  is  groundless,”  observed  Richmond,  gal- 
lantly. “ The  presence  of  two  beings,  fair  and  pure  as 
yourself  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Fitzgerald,  would  scare 
away  aught  of  evil.” 

The  Lady  Mary  thanked  him  with  a beaming  smile,  but 
the  fair  Geraldine  could  not  repress  a slight  laugh. 

“Your  grace  is  highly  flattering,”  she  said.  “But, 
with  all  faith  in  beauty  and  purity,  I should  place  most 
reliance  in  a relic  I possess, — the  virtue  of  which  has  often 
been  approved  against  evil  spirits.  It  was  given  by  a 
monk — who  had  been  sorely  tempted  by  a demon,  and 
who  owed  his  deliverance  to  it — to  my  ancestor,  Luigi 
Geraldi  of  Florence ; and  from  him  it  descended  to  me.” 

“ Would  I had  an  opportunity  of  proving  its  efficacy ! ” 
exclaimed  the  Earl  of  Surrey. 

“ You  shall  prove  it,  if  you  choose,”  rejoined  the  fair 
Geraldine.  “ I will  give  you  the  relic,  on  condition  that 
you  never  part  with  it  to  friend  or  foe.” 

And  detaching  a small  cross  of  gold,  suspended  by  a 
chain  from  her  neck,  she  presented  it  to  the  Earl  of 
Surrey. 

“ This  cross  encloses  the  relic,”  she  continued ; “ wear 
it,  and  may  it  protect  you  from  all  ill ! ” 

Surrey’s  pale  cheek  glowed  as  he  took  the  gift. 

“ I will  never  part  with  it  but  with  life ! ” he  cried, 
pressing  the  cross  to  his  lips,  and  afterwards  placing  it 
next  his  heart. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  63 

“I  would  have  given  half  my  dukedom  to  be  so 
favored,”  said  Richmond,  moodily. 

And  quitting  the  little  group,  he  walked  towards  the 
Lady  Anne. 

“ Henry,”  said  the  Lady  Mary,  taking  her  brother  aside; 
“ you  will  lose  your  friend.” 

“ I care  not,”  replied  Surrey. 

“ But  you  may  incur  his  enmity,”  pursued  the  Lady 
Mary.  “ I saw  the  glance  he  threw  at  you  just  now,  and 
it  was  exactly  like  the  king’s  terrible  look  when  offended.” 

“ Again  I say  I care  not,”  replied  Surrey.  “ Armed 
with  this  relic,  I defy  all  hostility.” 

“It  will  avail  little  against  Richmond’s  rivalry  and 
opposition,”  rejoined  his  sister. 

“We  shall  see,”  retorted  Surrey.  “Were  the  king 
himself  my  rival,  I would  not  resign  my  pretensions  to 
the  fair  Geraldine ! ” 

“ Bravely  resolved,  my  lord,”  said  Sir  Thomas  Wyat, 
who  having  overheard  the  exclamation,  advanced  towards 
him.  “ Heaven  grant  you  may  never  be  placed  in  such 
jeopardy ! ” 

“ I say  amen  to  that  prayer,  Sir  Thomas,”  rejoined 
Surrey.  “ I would  not  prove  disloyal,  and  yet  under  such 
circumstances ” 

“What  would  you  do?”  interrupted  Wyat. 

“ My  brother  is  but  a hasty  boy,  and  has  not  learned 
discretion,  Sir  Thomas,”  interposed  the  Lady  Mary,  trying 
by  a significant  glance  to  imnose  silence  on  the  Earl. 

“Young  as  he  is,  he  loves  well,  and  truly,”  remarked 
Wyat,  in  a somber  tone. 

“ What  is  all  this  ? ” inquired  the  fair  Geraldine,  who 
had  been  gazing  through  the  casement  into  the  court 
below. 

“ I was  merely  expressing  a wish  that  Surrey  may  never 
have  a monarch  for  a rival,  fair  lady,”  replied  Wyat. 


64 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“It  matters  little  who  may  be  his  rival,”  rejoined 
Geraldine,  “ provided  she  he  loves  be  constant.” 

“ Right,  lady,  right,”  said  Wyat,  with  great  bitterness. 

At  this  moment,  Will  Sommers  approached  them. 

“ I come  to  bid  you  to  the  Lady  Anne’s  presence,  Sir 
Thomas,  and  you  to  the  king’s,  my  lord  of  Surrey,”  said 
the  jester.  “ I noticed  what  has  just  taken  place,”  he 
remarked  to  the  latter,  as  they  proceeded  towards  the 
royal  canopy,  beneath  which  Henry  and  the  Lady  Anne 
Boleyn  were  seated  ; 44  but  Richmond  will  not  relinquish 
her  tamely,  for  all  that.” 

Anne  Boleyn  had  summoned  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  in 
order  to  gratify  her  vanity,  by  showing  him  the  un- 
bounded influence  she  possessed  over  his  royal  rival ; and 
the  half-suppressed  agony  displayed  by  the  unfortunate 
lover  at  the  exhibition,  afforded  her  a pleasure  such  as 
only  the  most  refined  coquette  can  feel. 

Surrey  was  sent  for  by  the  king  to  receive  instructions 
in  his  quality  of  vice- chamberlain,  respecting  a tilting- 
match  and  hunting-party  to  be  held  on  successive  days, 
— the  one  in  the  upper  quadrangle  of  the  castle,  the  other 
in  the  forest. 

Anxious,  now  that  he  was  somewhat  calmer,  to  avoid 
a rupture  with  Richmond,  Surrey,  as  soon  as  he  had  re- 
ceived the  king’s  instructions,  drew  near  the  duke ; and 
the  latter,  who  had  likewise  reasoned  himself  out  of  his 
resentment,  was  speedily  appeased,  and  they  became,  to  all 
appearance,  as  good  friends  as  ever. 

Soon  afterwards,  the  Lady  Anne  and  her  dames  retired, 
and  the  court  breaking  up,  the  two  young  nobles  strolled 
forth  to  the  stately  terrace  at  the  north  of  the  castle, 
where  while  gazing  at  the  glorious  view  it  commanded, 
they  talked  over  the  mysterious  event  of  the  previous 
night. 

44 1 cannot  help  suspecting  that  the  keeper  we  beheld 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


65 


with  the  demon-hunter,  was  Morgan  Fenwolf,”  remarked 
the  earl.  “ Suppose  we  make  inquiry  whether  he  was  at 
home  last  night.  We  can  readily  find  out  his  dwelling 
from  Bryan  Bowntance,  the  host  of  the  Garter.” 

Richmond  acquiesced  in  the  proposal,  and  they  accord- 
ingly proceeded  to  the  cloisters  of  Saint  George’s  Chapel, 
and  threading  some  tortuous  passages  contrived  among 
the  canons’  houses,  passed  through  a small  porch,  guarded 
by  a sentinel,  and  opening  upon  a precipitous  and  some- 
what dangerous  flight  of  steps,  hewn  out  of  the  rock,  and 
leading  to  the  town. 

None  except  the  more  important  members  of  the  royal 
household  were  allowed  to  use  this  means  of  exit  from 
the  castle  ; but  of  course  the  privilege  extended  to  Rich- 
mond and  Surrey.  Here  in  later  times,  and  when  the 
castle  was  not  so  strictly  guarded,  a more  convenient  ap- 
proach was  built,  and  designated,  from  the  number  of  its 
stairs,  “ The  hundred  steps.” 

Having  accomplished  the  descent  in  safety,  and  given 
the  pass-word  to  the  sentinel  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  the 
two  young  nobles  emerged  into  the  street,  and  the  first 
object  they  beheld  was  the  body  of  the  miserable  butcher 
swinging  from  the  summit  of  the  Curfew  Tower,  where 
it  was  left  by  order  of  the  king. 

Averting  their  gaze  from  this  ghastly  spectacle,  they 
took  their  way  up  Thames  Street,  and  soon  reached  the 
Garter.  Honest  Bryan  was  seated  on  a bench  before  the 
dwelling,  with  a flagon  of  his  own  ale  beside  him,  and 
rising  as  he  saw  the  others  approach,  he  made  them  a 
profound  salutation. 

On  learning  what  they  sought,  he  told  them  that 
Morgan  Fenwolf  dwelt  in  a small  cottage  by  the  river 
side,  not  far  from  the  bridge,  and  if  it  pleased  them,  he 
would  guide  them  to  it  himself, — an  offer  which  they 
gladly  accepted. 


66 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Do  you  know  anything  of  this  Fen  wolf  ? ” asked  Sur- 
rey, as  they  proceeded  on  their  way. 

“ Nothing  particular,”  replied  Bryan,  with  some  hesi- 
tation ; “ there  are  some  strange  reports  about  him,  but  I 
don’t  believe  ’em.” 

“ What  reports  are  they,  friend  ? ” asked  the  Duke  of 
Richmond. 

“ Why,  your  grace,  one  ought  to  be  cautious  what  one 
says,  for  fear  of  bringing  an  innocent  man  into  trouble,” 
returned  the  host.  “ But  if  the  truth  must  be  spoken, 
people  do  say  that  Morgan  Fenwolf  is  in  league  with 
the  devil — or  with  Herne  the  hunter,  which  is  the  same 
thing.” 

Richmond  exchanged  a look  with  his  friend. 

“ Folks  say  strange  sights  have  been  seen  in  the  forest, 
of  late,”  pursued  Bryan — “ and  it  may  be  so.  But  I my- 
self have  seen  nothing, — but  then,  to  be  sure,  I never  go 
there.  The  keepers  used  to  talk  of  Herne  the  hunter 
when  I was  a lad— but  I believe  it  was  only  a tale  to 
frighten  deer-stealers;  and  I fancy  it’s  much  the  same 
thing  now.” 

Neither  Surrey  nor  Richmond  made  any  remark,  and 
they  presently  reached  the  keeper’s  dwelling. 

It  was  a small  wooden  tenement,  standing,  as  the  host 
had  stated,  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  about  a bow-shot 
from  the  bridge.  The  door  was  opened  by  Bryan,  and  the 
party  entered  without  further  ceremony.  They  found  no 
one  within  except  an  old  woman,  with  harsh,  wrinkled 
features,  and  a glance  as  ill-omened  as  that  of  a witch, 
whom  Bryan  Bowntance  told  them  was  Fen  wolf’s  mother. 
This  old  crone  regarded  the  intruders  uneasily. 

“ Where  is  your  son,  dame  ? ” demanded  the  duke. 

“On  his  walk  in  the  forest,”  replied  the  old  crone, 
bluntly. 

“ What  time  did  he  go  forth  ? ” inquired  Surrey. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  67 

“ An  hour  before  daybreak,  as  is  his  custom,”  returned 
the  woman,  in  the  same  short  tone  as  before. 

“ You  are  sure  he  slept  at  home  last  night,  dame  ? ” 
said  Surrey. 

“ As  sure  as  I am  that  the  question  is  asked  me,”  she 
replied.  “ I can  show  you  the  very  bed  on  which  he  slept, 
if  you  desire  to  see  it.  He  retired  soon  after  sunset — 
slept  soundly,  as  he  always  sleeps— and  arose  as  I have 
told  you.  I lighted  a fire,  and  made  him  some  hot  pot- 
tage myself.” 

“ If  she  speaks  the  truth,  you  must  be  mistaken,”  ob- 
served Richmond,  in  a whisper,  to  his  friend. 

“ I do  not  believe  her,”  replied  Surrey,  in  the  same 
tone.  “ Show  us  his  chamber,  dame.” 

The  old  crone  sullenly  complied,  and  throwing  open  a 
side  door,  disclosed  an  inner  apartment,  in  which  there 
was  a small  bed.  There  was  nothing  noticeable  in  the 
room,  except  a couple  of  fishing-nets,  a hunting-spear, 
and  an  old  crossbow.  A small  open  casement  looked 
upon  the  river,  whose  clear  sparkling  waters  flowed  imme- 
diately beneath  it. 

Surrey  approached  the  window,  and  obtained  a fine 
view  of  the  Brocas  meads  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  em- 
bowered college  of  Eton  on  the  other.  His  attention, 
however,  was  diverted  by  a fierce  barking  without ; and 
the  next  moment,  in  spite  of  the  vociferations  of  the  old 
woman,  a large,  black  stag-hound,  which  Surrey  recog- 
nized as  Fenwolf’s  dog,  Bawsey,  burst  through  the  door, 
and  rushed  furiously  towards  him.  Surrey  drew  his  dag- 
ger to  defend  himself  from  the  hound’s  attack ; but  the 
precaution  was  needless.  Bawsey ’s  fierceness  * changed 
suddenly  to  the  most  abject  submission,  and  with  a terri- 
fied howl,  she  retreated  from  the  room  with  her  tail  be- 
tween her  legs.  Even  the  old  woman  uttered  a cry  of 
surprise. 


68 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Lord  help  us  ! ” exclaimed  Bryan — “ was  ever  the 
like  o’  that  seen.  Your  lordship  must  have  a strange 
mastery  over  dogs.  That  hound,”  he  added,  in  a whisper, 
“ is  said  to  be  a familiar  spirit.” 

“ The  virtue  of  the  relic  is  approved,”  observed  Surrey, 
to  Richmond,  in  an  under  tone. 

“It  would  seem  so,”  replied  the  duke. 

The  old  woman  now  thought  proper  to  assume  a more 
respectful  demeanor  towards  her  visitors,  and  inquired 
whether  her  son  should  attend  upon  them  on  his  return 
from  the  forest ; but  they  said  it  was  unnecessary. 

“ The  king  is  about  to  have  a grand  hunting-party  the 
day  after  to-morrow,”  observed  Surrey,  “ and  we  wished 
to  give  your  son  some  instructions  respecting  it.  They 
can,  however,  be  delivered  to  another  keeper.” 

And  they  departed  with  Bryan,  and  returned  to  the 
castle. 

At  midnight,  they  again  issued  forth.  Their  steeds 
awaited  them  near  the  upper  gate,  and  mounting,  they 
galloped  across  the  greensward  in  the  direction  of  Herne’s 
Oak.  Discerning  no  trace  of  the  ghostly  huntsman,  they 
shaped  their  course  towards  the  forest. 

Urging  their  steeds  to  their  utmost  speed,  and  skirting 
the  long  avenue,  they  did  not  draw  the  rein  till  they 
reached  the  eminence  beyond  it ; having  climbed  which, 
they  dashed  down  the  further  side,  at  the  same  swift 
pace  as  before.  The  ride  greatly  excited  them ; but  they 
saw  nothing  of  the  wild  huntsman ; nor  did  any  sound 
salute  their  ears,  except  the  tramp  of  their  own  horses,  or 
the  occasional  darting  forth  of  a startled  deer. 

Less  than  a quarter  of  an  hour  brought  them  to  the 
haunted  beech-tree.  But  all  was  as  silent  and  solitary 
here  as  at  the  blasted  oak.  In  vain  Surrey  smote  the  tree. 
No  answer  was  returned  to  the  summons,  and  finding  all 
efforts  to  evoke  the  demon  fruitless,  they  quitted  the  spot, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  69 

and  turning  their  horses’  heads  to  the  right,  slowly  as- 
cended the  hillside. 

Before  they  had  gained  the  brow  of  the  hill,  the  faint 
blast  of  a horn  saluted  their  ears,  apparently  proceeding 
from  the  valley,  near  the  lake.  They  instantly  stopped, 
and  looked  in  that  direction,  but  could  see  nothing.  Pres- 
ently, however,  the  blast  was  repeated  more  loudly  than 
before,  and,  guided  by  the  sound,  they  discerned  the 
spectral  huntsman  riding  beneath  the  trees  at  some 
quarter  of  a mile’s  distance. 

Striking  spurs  into  their  steeds,  they  instantly  gave  him 
chase  ; but  though  he  lured  them  on  through  thicket,  and 
over  glade — now  climbing  a hill,  now  plunging  into  a 
valley,  until  their  steeds  began  to  show  symptoms  of  ex- 
haustion— they  got  no  nearer  to  him  ; and  at  length,  as 
they  drew  near  the  Home  Park,  to  which  he  had  gradually 
led  them,  he  disappeared  from  view. 

“I  will  take  my  station  near  the  blasted  oak,”  said 
Surrey,  galloping  towards  it,  “ the  demon  is  sure  to  revisit 
his  favorite  tree  before  cockcrowing.” 

“ What  is  that  ? ” cried  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  pointing  to 
a strange  and  ghastly-looking  object  depending  from  the 
tree.  “ Some  one  has  hanged  himself ! It  may  be  the 
caitiff,  Morgan  Fenwolf.” 

With  one  accord  they  dashed  forward ; and  as  they  drew 
nearer  the  tree,  they  perceived  that  the  object  that  had 
attracted  their  attention  was  the  body  of  Mark  Fytton, 
the  butcher,  which  they  had  so  recently  seen  swinging 
from  the  summit  of  the  Curfew  Tower.  It  was  now  sus- 
pended from  an  arm  of  the  wizard  oak. 

A small  scroll  was  stuck  upon  the  breast  of  the  corpse, 
and,  taking  it  off,  Surrey  read  these  words,  traced  in  un- 
couth characters : 64  Mark  Fytton  is  now  one  of  the 
band  of  Herne  the  Hunter 

44  By  my  fay,  this  passes  all  comprehension,”  said 


Y0 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Richmond,  after  a few  moments’  silence.  “ This  castle 
and  forest  seem  under  the  sway  of  the  powers  of  darkness. 
Let  us  return.  I have  had  enough  of  adventure  for  to- 
night.” 

And  he  rode  towards  the  castle,  followed  more  slowly 
by  the  earl. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


71 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  THE  EARL  OF  SURREY  AND  THE  FAIR  GERALDINE 

PLIGHTED  ‘ THEIR  TROTH  IN  THE  CLOISTERS  OF  SAINT 

George’s  chapel. 

Barriers  were  erected  on  the  following  day  in  the 
upper  ward  of  the  castle,  and  the  Lady  Anne  and  her 
dames  assembled  in  the  balcony  in  front  of  the  royal 
lodgings,  which  was  decorated  with  arras,  costly  carpets, 
and  rich  stuffs,  to  view  the  spectacle. 

Perfect  in  all  manly  accomplishments,  Henry  splintered 
several  lances  with  his  brother-in-law,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
who  formed  an  admirable  match  for  him  in  point  of  weight 
and  strength ; and  at  last,  though  he  did  not  succeed  in 
unhorsing  the  duke,  he  struck  off  his  helmet,  the  clasp 
of  which,  it  was  whispered,  was  left  designedly  un- 
fastened; and  being  thereupon  declared  the  victor,  he 
received  the  prize — a scarf  embroidered  by  her  own 
hands — from  the  fair  Anne  herself. 

He  then  retired  from  the  lists,  leaving  them  free  for 
the  younger  knights  to  run  a course  at  the  ring.  The 
first  to  enter  the  arena  was  Sir  Thomas  Wyat;  and  as  he 
was  known  to  be  a skilful  j ouster,  it  was  expected  he 
would  come  off  triumphantly.  But  a glance  from  the 
royal  balcony  rendered  his  arm  unsteady,  and  he  missed 
the  mark. 

Next  came  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  superbly  accoutered. 
Laughing  at  Wyat’s  ill-success,  he  bowed  to  the  fair 
Geraldine,  and  taking  a lance  from  his  esquire,  placed 
it  in  the  rest,  and  rode  gallantly  forward.  But  he  was 
equally  unsuccessful,  and  retired,  looking  deeply 
chagrined. 


72 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


The  third  knight  who  presented  himself  was  Surrey. 
Mounted  on  his  favorite  black  Arabian — a steed  which, 
though  of  fiery  temper,  obeyed  his  slightest  movement. 
His  light  symmetrical  figure  was  seen  to  the  greatest 
advantage  in  his  close-fitting  habiliments  of  silk  and 
velvet.  Without  venturing  a look  at  the  royal  balcony, 
the  earl  couched  his  lance,  and  bounding  forward,  bore 
away  the  ring  on  its  point. 

Amid  the  plaudits  of  the  spectators,  he  then  careered 
round  the  arena,  and  approaching  the  royal  balcony, 
raised  his  lance,  and  proffered  the  ring  to  the  fair  Geral- 
dine, who  blushingly  received  it.  Henry,  though  by  no 
means  pleased  with  Surrey’s  success,  earned  as  it  was  at 
the  expense  of  his  son,  complimented  him  upon  his  skill, 
and  Anne  Boleyn  joined  warmly  in  his  praises. 

The  lists  were  then  closed,  and  the  royal  party  retired 
to  partake  of  refreshments,  after  which  they  proceeded  to 
the  butts  erected  in  the  broad  mead  at  the  north  of  the 
castle,  where  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch  and  his  companions 
shot  a well- contested  match  with  the  long  bow. 

During  these  sports,  Surrey  placed  himself  as  near  as  he 
could  to  the  fair  Geraldine,  and  though  but  few  opportuni- 
ties occurred  of  exchanging  a syllable  with  her,  his  looks 
spoke  a sufficiently  intelligible  language.  At  last,  just  as 
they  were  about  to  return  to  the  palace,  he  breathed  in 
an  imploring  tone  in  her  ear — 

“ You  will  attend  vespers  at  Saint  George’s  Chapel 
this  evening.  Return  through  the  cloisters.  Grant  me 
a moment’s  interview  alone  there.” 

44 1 cannot  promise,”  replied  the  fair  Geraldine. 

And  she  followed  in  the  train  of  the  Lady  Anne. 

The  earl’s  request  had  not  been  unheard.  As  the  royal 
train  proceeded  towards  the  castle,  Will  Sommers  con- 
trived to  approach  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  and  said  to 
him,  in  a jeering  tone, — 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


73 


“ You  ran  but  indifferently  at  the  ring  to-day,  gossip. 
The  galliard  Surrey  rode  better,  and  carried  off  the  prize.” 

“ Pest  on  thee,  scurril  knave,  be  silent ! ” cried  Rich- 
mond, angrily.  “Failure  is  bad  enough  without  thy 
taunts ! ” 

“ If  you  had  only  missed  the  ring,  gossip,  I should  have 
thought  nothing  of  it,”  pursued  Will  Sommers;  “but 
you  lost  a golden  opportunity  of  ingratiating  yourself 
with  your  lady-love.  All  your  hopes  are  now  at  an  end. 
A word  in  your  ear.  The  fair  Geraldine  will  meet  Surrey 
alpne,  this  evening.” 

“ Thou  liest,  knave ! ” cried  the  duke,  fiercely. 

“ Your  grace  will  find  the  contrary,  if  you  will  be  at 
Wolsey’s  tomb-house  at  vesper- time,”  replied  the  jester. 

“ I will  be  there,”  replied  the  Duke ; “ but  if  I am 
brought  on  a bootless  errand,  not  even  my  royal  father 
shall  save  thee  from  chastisement.” 

“ I will  bear  any  chastisement  your  grace  may  choose 
to  inflict  upon  me,  if  I prove  not  the  truth  of  my  asser- 
tion,” replied  Sommers.  And  he  dropped  into  the  rear 
of  the  train. 

The  two  friends,  as  if  by  mutual  consent,  avoided  each 
other  during  the  rest  of  the  day — Surrey  feeling  he  could 
not  unburden  his  heart  to  Richmond,  and  Richmond 
brooding  jealously  over  the  intelligence  he  had  received 
from  the  jester. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  the  duke  proceeded  to  the  lower 
ward,  and  stationed  himself  near  Wolsey’s  tomb-house. 
Just  as  he  arrived  there,  the  vesper  hymn  arose  from  the 
adjoining  fane,  and  its  solemn  strains  somewhat  soothed 
his  troubled  spirit.  But  they  died  away;  and  as  the 
jester  came  not,  Richmond  grew  impatient,  and  began  to 
fear  he  had  been  duped  by  his  informant.  At  length,  the 
service  concluded,  and,  losing  all  patience,  he  was  about 
to  depart,  when  the  jester  peered  round  the  lower  angle 


n 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


of  the  tomb-house,  and  beckoned  to  him.  Obeying  the 
summons,  the  duke  followed  his  conductor  down  the 
arched  passage  leading  to  the  cloisters. 

“ Tread  softly,  gossip,  or  you  will  alarm  them,”  said 
Sommers,  in  a low  tone. 

They  turned  the  corner  of  the  cloisters;  and  there, 
near  the  entrance  of  the  chapel,  stood  the  youthful  pair, 
— the  fair  Geraldine,  half  reclining  upon  the  earl’s  breast, 
while  his  arm  encircled  her  slender  waist. 

“ There ! ” whispered  the  jester,  chuckling  maliciously 
— 44  there  ! did  I speak  falsely — eh ! gossip  ? ” 

Richmond  laid  his  hand  upon  his  sword. 

“ Hist ! ” said  the  jester — 44  hear  what  the  fair  Geral- 
dine has  to  say.” 

“ ¥e  must  meet  no  more  thus,  Surrey,”  she  murmured : 
44  I feel  I was  wrong  in  granting  the  interview,  but  I 
could  not  help  it.  If,  when  a few  more  years  have  flown 
over  your  head,  your  heart  remains  unchanged ” 

44  It  will  never  change ! ” interrupted  Surrey.  “ I here 
solemnly  pledge  my  troth  to  you.” 

44  And  I return  the  pledge,”  replied  the  fair  Geraldine, 
earnestly.  “ I vow  to  be  yours,  and  yours  only.” 

“Would  that  Richmond  could  hear  your  vow !”  said 
Surrey — 44  it  would  extinguish  his  hopes.” 

44  He  has  heard  it ! ” cried  the  duke,  advancing.  44  But 
his  hopes  are  not  yet  extinguished.” 

The  fair  Geraldine  uttered  a slight  scream,  and  dis- 
engaged herself  from  the  earl. 

44  Richmond,  you  have  acted  unworthily  in  thus  play- 
ing the  spy,”  said  Surrey,  angrily. 

44  None  but  a spy  can  surprise  interviews  like  these,” 
rejoined  Richmond,  bitterly.  44  The  Lady  Elizabeth  Fitz- 
gerald had  better  have  kept  her  chamber,  than  come  here 
to  plight  her  troth  with  a boy,  who  will  change  his  mind 
before  his  beard  is  grown.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  75 

“ Your  grace  shall  find  the  boy  man  enough  to  avenge 
an  insult,”  rejoined  Surrey,  sternly. 

“ I am  glad  to  hear  it ! ” returned  the  duke.  “ Lady 
Elizabeth  Fitzgerald,  I must  pray  you  to  return  to  your 
lodgings.  The  king’s  jester  will  attend  you.  This  way, 
my  lord ! ” 

I Too  much  exasperated  to  hesitate,  Surrey  followed  the 
duke  down  the  passage,  and  the  next  moment,  the  clash- 
ing of  swords  was  heard.  The  fair  Geraldine  screamed 
loudly,  and  Will  Sommers  began  to  think  the  jest  had 
been  carried  too  far. 

“ What  is  to  be  done  ? ” he  cried.  “ If  the  king  hears 
of  this  quarrel,  he  will  assuredly  place  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
in  arrest.  I now  repent  having  brought  the  duke  here.” 

“ You  acted  most  maliciously,”  cried  the  fair  Geraldine  ; 
“ but  fly,  and  prevent  further  mischief.” 

Thus  urged,  the  jester  ran  towards  the  lower  ward, 
and  finding  an  officer  of  the  guard  and  a couple  of  hal- 
berdiers near  the  entrance  of  Saint  George’s  Chapel,  told 
them  what  was  taking  place,  and  they  immediately  has- 
tened with  him  to  the  scene  of  the  conflict. 

“ My  lords  ! ” cried  the  officer  to  the  combatants,  “ I 
command  you  to  lay  down  your  weapons.” 

But  finding  no  respect  paid  to  his  injunctions,  he 
rushed  between  them,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  halberdiers, 
forcibly  separated  them. 

“ My  lord  of  Surrey,”  said  the  officer,  “ you  are  my 
prisoner.  I demand  your  sword.” 

“ On  what  plea,  sir  ? ” rejoined  the  other. 

“You  have  drawn  it  against  the  king’s  son — and  the 
act  is  treason,”  replied  the  officer.  “ I shall  take  you  to 
the  guard-house  until  the  king’s  pleasure  is  known.” 

“ But  I provoked  the  earl  to  the  conflict,”  said  Rich- 
mond ; “ I was  the  aggressor.” 

“ Your  grace  will  represent  the  matter  as  you  see  fit 


76 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


to  your  royal  father,”  rejoined  the  officer,  “ I shall  fulfil 
my  duty.  My  lord,  to  the  guard-house ! ” 

“ I will  procure  your  instant  liberation,  Surrey,”  said 
Richmond. 

The  earl  was  then  led  away,  and  conveyed  to  a chamber 
in  the  lower  part  of  Henry  the  Eighth’s  gate,  now  used 
as  a place  of  military  punishment,  and  denominated  the 
“ black  hole.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


n 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OP  TRISTRAM  LYNDWOOD,  THE  OLD  FORESTER,  AND  HIS 

GRANDDAUGHTER  MABEL  ; OF  THE  PERIL  IN  WHICH  THE 

LADY  ANNE  BOLEYN  WAS  PLACED  DURING  THE  CHASE  ; 

AND  BY  WHOM  SHE  WAS  RESCUED. 

In  consequence  of  the  announcement  that  a grand 
hunting-party  would  be  held  in  the  forest,  all  the  ver- 
derers,  rangers,  and  keepers,  assembled  at  an  early  hour 
on  the  fourth  day  after  the  king’s  arrival  at  Windsor,  in 
an  open  space  on  the  west  side  of  the  great  avenue,  where 
a wooden  stand  was  erected,  canopied  over  with  green 
boughs  and  festooned  with  garlands  of  flowers,  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  Lady  Anne  Boleyn  and  her  dames, 
who,  it  was  understood,  would  be  present  at  the  chase. 

At  a little  distance  from  the  stand,  an  extensive  covert 
was  fenced  round  with  stout  poles  to  which  nets  were 
attached,  so  as  to  form  a haye  or  preserve,  where  the 
game  intended  for  the  royal  sport  was  confined;  and 
though  many  of  the  animals  thus  brought  together  were 
of  hostile  natures,  they  were  all  so  terrified,  and  seem- 
ingly so  conscious  of  the  danger  impending  over  them, 
that  they  did  not  molest  each  other.  The  foxes  and 
martins,  of  which  there  were  abundance,  slunk  into  the 
brushwood  with  the  hares  and  rabbits,  but  left  their 
prey  untouched.  The  harts  made  violent  efforts  to  break 
forth,  and,  entangling  their  horns  in  the  nets,  were  with 
difficulty  extricated  and  driven  back;  while  the  timid 
does,  not  daring  to  follow  them,  stood  warily  watching 
the  result  of  the  struggle. 

Amongst  the  antlered  captives  was  a fine  buck,  which. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


having  been  once  before  hunted  by  the  king,  was  styled 
a “ hart  royal,”  and  this  noble  animal  would  certainly 
have  effected  his  escape,  if  he  had  not  been  attacked  and 
driven  back  by  Morgan  Fenwolf,  who  throughout  the 
morning’s  proceedings  displayed  great  energy  and  skill. 
The  compliments  bestowed  on  Fenwolf  for  his  address 
by  the  chief  verderer  excited  the  jealousy  of  some  of  his 
comrades  ; and  more  than  one  asserted  that  he  had  been 
assisted  in  his  task  by  some  evil  being,  and  that  Bawsey 
herself  was  no  better  than  a familiar  spirit  in  the  form  of 
a hound. 

Morgan  Fenwolf  scouted  these  remarks ; and  he  was 
supported  by  some  others  among  the  keepers,  who  de- 
clared that  it  required  no  supernatural  aid  to  accomplish 
what  he  had  done — that  he  was  nothing  more  than  a 
good  huntsman,  who  could  ride  fast  and  boldly — that  he 
was  skilled  in  all  the  exercises  of  the  chase — and  pos- 
sessed a stanch  and  well-trained  hound. 

The  party  then  sat  down  to  breakfast  beneath  the  trees, 
and  the  talk  fell  upon  Herne  the  hunter,  and  his  frequent 
appearance  of  late  in  the  forest  (for  most  of  the  keepers 
had  heard  of,  or  encountered  the  spectral  huntsman); 
and  while  they  were  discussing  this  topic,  and  a plentiful 
allowance  of  cold  meat,  bread,  ale,  and  mead,  at  the  same 
time,  two  persons  were  seen  approaching  along  a vista  on 
the  right,  who  specially  attracted  their  attention,  and 
caused  Morgan  Fenwolf  to  drop  the  hunting-knife,  with 
which  he  was  carving  his  viands,  and  start  to  his  feet. 

The  newcomers  were  an  old  man,  and  a comely  young 
damsel.  The  former,  though  nearer  seventy  than  sixty, 
was  still  hale  and  athletic ; with  fresh  complexion,  some- 
what tanned  by  the  sun,  and  a keen  gray  eye,  which  had 
lost  nothing  of  its  fire.  He  was  habited  in  a stout 
leathern  doublet,  hose  of  the  same  material,  and  boots 
rudely  fashioned  out  of  untanned  ox-hide,  and  drawn 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


79 


above  the  knee.  In  his  girdle  was  thrust  a large  hunting- 
knife  ; a horn  with  a silver  mouthpiece,  depended  from 
his  shoulder ; and  he  wore  a long  bow,  and  a quiver  full 
of  arrows  at  his  back.  A flat  bonnet,  made  of  fox-skin, 
and  ornamented  with  a raven’s  wing  covered  his  hair, 
which  was  as  white  as  silver. 

But  it  was  not  upon  this  old  forester,  for  such  his  attire 
proclaimed  him,  that  the  attention  of  the  beholders,  and 
of  Morgan  Fenwolf  in  especial,  was  fixed, — but  upon  his 
companion.  Amongst  the  many  lovely  and  high-born 
dames,  who  had  so  recently  graced  the  procession  to  the 
castle,  were  few,  if  any,  comparable  to  this  lowly  damsel. 
Her  dress — probably  owing  to  the  pride  felt  in  her  by 
her  old  relative — was  somewhat  superior  to  her  station. 
A tightly-laced  green  kirtle  displayed  to  perfection  her 
slight,  but  exquisitely-formed  figure.  A gown  of  orange- 
colored  cloth,  sufficiently  short  to  display  her  small  ankles, 
and  a pair  of  green  buskins,  embroidered  with  silver,  to- 
gether with  a collar  of  the  whitest  and  finest  linen, 
though  shamed  by  the  neck  it  concealed,  and  fastened  by 
a small  clasp,  completed  her  attire.  Her  girdle  was  em- 
broidered with  silver,  and  her  sleeves  were  fastened  by 
aiglets  of  the  same  metal. 

“How  proud  old  Tristram  Lyndwood  seems  of  his 
granddaughter ! ” remarked  one  of  the  keepers. 

“ And  with  reason,”  replied  another.  “ Mabel  Lynd- 
wood is  the  comeliest  lass  in  Berkshire.” 

“ Ay,  marry  is  she,”  rejoined  the  first  speaker ; “ and  to 
my  thinking,  she  is  a fairer  and  sweeter  flower  than  any 
that  blooms  in  yon  stately  castle — the  flower  that  finds 
so  much  favor  in  the  eyes  of  our  royal  Hal  not  excepted.” 

“ Have  a care,  Gabriel  Lapp,”  observed  another  keeper. 
“ Recollect  that  Mark  Fytton,  the  butcher,  was  hanged 
for  speaking  slightingly  of  the  Lady  Anne  Boleyn ; and 
you  may  share  his  fate,  if  you  disparage  her  beauty.” 


80 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“Nay,  I meant  not  to  disparage  the  Lady  Anne,”  re- 
plied Gabriel.  “ Hal  may  marry  her  when  he  will,  and 
divorce  her  as  soon  afterwards  as  he  pleases,  for  aught  I 
care.  If  he  marries  fifty  wives,  I shall  like  him  all  the 
better.  The  more  the  merrier,  say  I.  But  if  he  sets 
eyes  on  Mab  Lyndwood,  it  may  somewhat  unsettle  his 
love  for  the  Lady  Anne.” 

“ Tush,  Gabriel ! ” said  Morgan  Fen  wolf , darting  an 
angry  look  at  him.  “ What  business  have  you  to  insin- 
uate that  the  king  would  heed  other  than  the  lady  of  his 
love  ? ” 

“You  are  jealous,  Morgan  Fen  wolf,”  rejoined  Gabriel, 
with  a malignant  grin.  “We  all  know  you  are  in  love 
with  Mabel  yourself.” 

“And  we  all  know,  likewise,  that  Mabel  will  have 
nothing  to  say  to  you  ! ” cried  another  keeper,  while  the 
others  laughed  in  chorus.  “ Come  and  sit  down  beside 
us,  Morgan,  and  finish  your  breakfast.” 

But  the  keeper  turned  moodily  away,  and  hied  towards 
Tristram  Lyndwood  and  his  granddaughter.  The  old 
forester  shook  him  cordially  by  the  hand,  and  after 
questioning  him  as  to  what  had  taken  place,  and  hearing 
how  he  had  managed  to  drive  the  hart  royal  into  the  haye, 
clapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  said — “ Thou  art  a 
brave  huntsman,  Morgan.  I wish  Mab  could  only  think 
as  well  of  thee  as  I do.” 

To  this  speech,  Mabel  not  only  paid  no  attention,  but 
looked  studiously  another  way. 

“ I am  glad  your  grandfather  has  brought  you  out  to  see 
the  chase  to-day,  Mabel,”  observed  Morgan  Fenwolf. 

“ I came  not  to  see  the  chase,  but  the  king,”  she  re- 
plied, somewhat  petulantly. 

“ It  is  not  every  fair  maid  who  would  confess  so  much,” 
observed  Fenwolf,  frowning. 

“Then  I am  franker  than  some  of  my  sex,”  replied 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  81 

Mabel.  “ But  who  is  the  strange  man  looking  at  us  from 
behind  that  tree,  grandfather  ? 55 

“ I see  no  one,”  replied  the  old  forester. 

“ Neither  do  I,”  added  Morgan  Fen  wolf  with  a shudder. 

“ You  are  wilfully  blind,”  rejoined  Mabel.  “But  see, 
the  person  I mentioned  stalks  forth.  Now,  perhaps,  he 
is  visible  to  you  both.” 

And  as  she  spoke,  a tall,  wild-looking  figure,  armed 
with  a hunting  spear,  emerged  from  the  trees,  and  ad- 
vanced towards  them.  The  garb  of  the  newcomer  some- 
what resembled  that  of  a forester ; but  his  arms  and 
lower  limbs  were  destitute  of  covering,  and  appeared 
singularly  muscular,  while  his  skin  was  swarthy  as  that 
of  a gipsy.  His  jet  black  hair  hung  in  elf-locks  over  his 
savage-looking  features. 

In  another  moment,  he  was  beside  them,  and  fixed  his 
dark,  piercing  eyes  on  Mabel,  in  such  a manner  as  to 
compel  her  to  avert  her  gaze. 

“ What  brings  you  here  this  morning,  Tristram  Lynd- 
wood  ? ” he  demanded,  in  a hoarse,  imperious  tone. 

“ The  same  motive  that  brought  you,  Valentine  Hag- 
thorne,”  replied  the  old  forester, — “ to  see  the  royal  chase.” 

“This,  I suppose,  is  your  granddaughter?”  pursued 
Hagthorne. 

“ Ay,”  replied  Tristram,  bluntly. 

“ Strange  I should  never  have  seen  her  before,”  rejoined 
the  other.  “ She  is  very  fair.  Be  ruled  by  me,  friend 
Tristram — take  her  home  again.  If  she  sees  the  king,  ill 
will  come  of  it.  You  know,  or  should  know,  his  character.” 

“ Hagthorne  advises  well,”  interposed  Fenwolf.  “ Mabel 
will  be  better  at  home.” 

“ But  she  has  no  intention  of  returning  at  present,” 
replied  Mabel.  “ You  brought  me  here  for  pastime,  dear 
grandfather,  and  will  not  take  me  back  at  the  recommen- 
dation of  this  strange  man  ? ” 


82 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


44  Content  you,  child — content  you,”  replied  Tristram, 
kindly.  “ You  shall  remain  where  you  are.” 

“ You  will  repent  it ! ” cried  Hagthorne. 

And  hastily  darting  among  the  trees,  he  disappeared 
from  view. 

Affecting  to  laugh  at  the  occurrence,  though  evidently 
annoyed  by  it,  the  old  forester  led  his  granddaughter 
towards  the  stand,  where  he  was  cordially  greeted  by  the 
keepers,  most  of  whom,  while  expressing  their  pleasure 
at  seeing  him,  strove  to  render  themselves  agreeable  in 
the  eyes  of  Mabel. 

From  this  scene  Morgan  Fenwolf  kept  aloof,  and  re- 
mained leaning  against  a tree,  with  his  eyes  riveted  upon 
the  damsel.  He  was  roused  from  his  reverie  by  a slight 
tap  upon  the  shoulder  ; and  turning  at  the  touch,  beheld 
Valentine  Hagthorne.  Obedient  to  a sign  from  the  latter, 
he  followed  him  amongst  the  trees,  and  they  both  plunged 
into  a dell. 

An  hour  or  two  after  this,  when  the  sun  was  higher  in 
the  heavens,  and  the  dew  dried  upon  the  greensward,  the 
king,  and  a large  company  of  lords  and  ladies,  rode  forth 
from  the  upper  gate  of  the  castle,  and  taking  their  way 
along  the  great  avenue,  struck  off  on  the  right,  when  about 
half  way  up  it,  and  shaped  their  course  towards  the  have. 

A goodly  sight  it  was  to  see  this  gallant  company  rid- 
i g beneath  the  trees ; and  pleasant  was  it,  also,  to  listen 
3 o the  blithe  sound  of  their  voices,  amid  which,  Anne 
Boleyn’s  musical  laugh  could  be  plainly  distinguished. 
Henry  was  attended  by  his  customary  band  of  archers 
and  yeomen  of  the  guard  ; and  by  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch 
and  his  followers.  On  reaching  the  haye,  the  king  dis- 
mounted, and  assisting  the  Lady  Anne  from  her  steed, 
ascended  the  stand  with  her. 

He  then  took  a small  and  beautifully-fashioned  bow 
from  an  attendant,  and  stringing  it,  presented  it  to  her. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  83 

“ I trust  this  will  not  prove  too  strong  for  your  fair 
hands,”  he  said. 

“ I will  make  shift  to  draw  it,”  replied  Anne,  raising 
the  bow,  and  gracefully  pulling  the  string.  “ Would  I 
could  wound  your  majesty  as  surely  as  I shall  hit  the 
first  roe  that  passes.” 

“That  were  a needless  labor,”  rejoined  Henry,  “seeing 
that  you  have  already  stricken  me  to  the  heart.  You 
should  cure  the  wound  you  have  already  made,  sweet- 
heart— not  inflict  a new  one.” 

At  this  juncture,  the  chief  verderer,  mounted  on  a 
powerful  steed,  and  followed  by  two  keepers,  each  holding 
a couple  of  stag-hounds  in  leash,  rode  up  to  the  royal 
stand,  and  placing  his  horn  to  his  lips,  blew  three  long 
mootes  from  it.  At  the  same  moment,  part  of  the 
network  of  the  haye  was  lifted  up,  and  a roebuck  set 
free. 

By  the  management  of  the  keepers,  the  animal  was 
driven  past  the  royal  stand ; and  Anne  Boleyn,  who  had 
drawn  an  arrow  nearly  to  the  head,  let  it  fly  with  such 
good  aim,  that  she  pierced  the  buck  to  the  heart.  A loud 
shout  from  the  spectators  rewarded  the  prowess  of  the 
fair  huntress  ; and  Henry  was  so  enchanted,  that  he  bent 
the  knee  to  her,  and  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips.  Satis- 
fied, however,  with  the  achievement,  Anne  prudently  de- 
clined another  shot.  Henry  then  took  a bow  from  one  of 
the  archers,  and  other  roes  being  turned  out,  he  approved 
upon  them  his  unerring  skill  as  a marksman. 

Meanwhile,  the  hounds,  being  held  in  leash,  kept  up  a 
loud  and  incessant  baying ; and  Henry,  wearying  of  his 
slaughterous  sport,  turned  to  Anne,  and  asked  her  whether 
she  was  disposed  for  the  chase.  She  answered  in  the 
affirmative,  and  the  king  motioned  his  henchmen  to  bring 
forward  the  steeds. 

In  doing  this,  he  caught  sight  of  Mabel,  who  was  stand- 


84 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


ing  with  her  grandsire  among  the  keepers,  at  a little 
distance  from  the  stand,  and,  struck  with  her  extraordi- 
nary beauty,  he  regarded  her  for  a moment  intently,  and 
then  called  to  Gabriel  Lapp,  who  chanced  to  be  near  him, 
and  demanded  her  name. 

“It  is  Mabel  Lyndwood,  an’  please  your  majesty,”  re- 
plied Gabriel.  “ She  is  granddaughter  to  old  Tristram 
Lyndwood,  who  dwells  at  Black  Nest,  near  the  lake,  at 
the  further  extremity  of  Windsor  Forest,  and  who  was 
forester  to  your  royal  father,  King  Henry  the  Seventh 
of  blessed  memory.” 

“ Ha  ! is  it  so  ? ” cried  Henry. 

But- he  was  prevented  from  further  remark  by  Anne 
Boleyn,  who  perceiving  how  his  attention  was  attracted, 
suddenly  interposed. 

“Your  majesty  spoke  of  the  chase,”  she  said,  impa- 
tiently. “But  perhaps  you  have  found  other  pastime 
more  diverting  ? ” 

“ Not  so, — not  so,  sweetheart,”  he  replied,  hastily. 

“ There  is  a hart  royal  in  the  haye,”  said  Gabriel  Lapp. 
“Is  it  your  majesty’s  pleasure  that  I set  him  free?” 

“ It  is,  good  fellow — it  is,”  replied  the  king. 

And  as  Gabriel  hastened  to  the  netted  fencework,  and 
prepared  to  drive  forth  the  hart,  Henry  assisted  Anne 
Boleyn,  who  could  not  help  exhibiting  some  slight  jealous 
pique,  to  mount  her  steed,  and  having  sprung  into  his 
own  saddle,  they  waited  the  liberation  of  the  buck,  which 
was  accomplished  in  a somewhat  unexpected  manner. 

Separated  from  the  rest  of  the  herd,  the  noble  animal 
made  a sudden  dart  towards  Gabriel,  and  upsetting  him 
in  his  wild  career,  darted  past  the  king,  and  made  towards 
the  upper  part  of  the  forest.  In  another  instant,  the 
hounds  were  uncoupled,  and  at  his  heels,  while  Henry 
and  Anne  urged  their  steeds  after  him,  the  king  shouting 
at  the  top  of  his  lusty  voice.  The  rest  of  the  royal  party 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  85 

followed  as  they  might,  and  the  woods  resounded  with 
their  joyous  cries. 

The  hart  royal  proved  himself  worthy  of  his  designa- 
tion. Dashing  forward  with  extraordinary  swiftness,  he 
rapidly  gained  upon  his  pursuers— for  though  Henry,  by 
putting  his  courser  to  his  utmost  speed,  could  have  kept 
near  him,  he  did  not  choose  to  quit  his  fair  companion. 

In  this  way,  they  scoured  the  forest,  until  the  king, 
seeing  they  should  be  speedily  distanced,  commanded  Sir 
Thomas  Wyat,  who,  with  the  Dukes  of  Suffolk  and  Nor- 
folk, was  riding  close  behind  him,  to  cross  by  the  lower 
ground  on  the  left,  and  turn  the  stag.  Wyat  instantly 
obeyed,  and  plunging  his  spurs  deeply  into  his  horse’s 
sides,  started  off  at  a furious  pace,  and  was  soon  after 
seen  shaping  his  rapid  course  through  a devious  glade. 

Meanwhile,  Henry  and  his  fair  companion  rode  on 
without  relaxing  their  pace,  until  they  reached  the  sum- 
mit of  a knoll,  crowned  by  an  old  oak  and  beech-tree, 
and  commanding  a superb  view  of  the  castle,  where  they 
drew  in  the  rein. 

From  this  eminence,  they  could  witness  the  progress 
of  the  chase,  as  it  continued  in  the  valley  beyond.  An 
ardent  lover  of  hunting,  the  king  watched  it  with  the 
deepest  interest,  rose  in  his  saddle,  and  uttering  various 
exclamations,  showed,  from  his  impatience,  that  he  was 
only  restrained  by  the  stronger  passion  of  love  from 
joining  it. 

Ere  long,  stag,  hounds,  and  huntsmen,  were  lost  amid  a 
thicket,  and  nothing  could  be  distinguished  but  a distant 
baying  and  shouts.  At  last,  even  these  sounds  died  away. 

Henry,  who  had  ill  brooked  the  previous  restraint,  now 
grew  so  impatient,  that  Anne  begged  him  to  set  off  after 
them,  when,  suddenly,  the  cry  of  hounds  burst  upon  their 
ear,  and  the  hart  was  seen  issuing  from  the  dell,  closely 
followed  by  his  pursuers. 


86 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


The  affrighted  animal,  to  the  king's  great  satisfaction, 
made  his  way  directly  towards  the  spot  where  he  was 
stationed  ; but  on  reaching  the  side  of  the  knoll,  and  see- 
ing his  new  foes,  he  darted  off  on  the  right,  and  tried  to 
regain  the  thicket  below.  But  he  was  turned  by  another 
band  of  keepers,  and  again  driven  towards  the  knoll. 

Scarcely  had  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  reined  in  his  steed  by 
the  side  of  the  king,  than  the  hart  again  appeared  bound- 
ing up  the  hill.  Anne  Boleyn,  who  had  turned  her  horse’s 
head  to  obtain  a better  view  of  the  hunt,  alarmed  by  the 
animal’s  menacing  appearance,  tried  to  get  out  of  his  way* 
But  it  was  too  late.  Hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  and  driven 
to  desperation  by  the  cries  of  hounds  and  huntsmen  in 
front,  the  hart  lowered  his  horns,  and  made  a furious 
push  at  her. 

Dreadfully  alarmed,  Anne  drew  in  the  rein  so  suddenly 
and  sharply,  that  she  almost  pulled  her  steed  back  upon 
his  haunches ; and  in  trying  to  avoid  the  stag’s  attack, 
caught  hold  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  who  was  close  beside 
her. 

In  all  probability,  she  would  have  received  some  serious 
injury  from  the  infuriated  animal,  who  was  just  about  to 
repeat  his  assault,  and  more  successfully,  when  a bolt 
from  a crossbow,  discharged  by  Morgan  Fen  wolf,  who 
suddenly  made  his  appearance  from  behind  the  beech- tree, 
brought  him  to  the  ground. 

But  Anne  Boleyn  escaped  one  danger  only  to  encounter 
another  equally  serious.  On  seeing  her  fling  herself  into 
the  arms  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  Henry  regarded  her  in 
stern  displeasure  for  a moment,  and  then  calling  angrily 
to  his  train,  without  so  much  as  deigning  to  inquire 
whether  she  had  sustained  any  damage  from  the  accident, 
or  making  the  slightest  remark  upon  her  conduct,  rode 
sullenly  towards  the  castle. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


87 


CHAPTER  IX. 

BY  WHAT  MEAN’S  SIR  THOMAS  WYAT  OBTAINED  AN  IN- 
TERVIEW WITH  ANNE  BOLEYN  ; AND  HOW  THE  EARL  OF 

SURREY  SAVED  THEM  FROM  THE  KING’S  ANGER. 

The  incident  above  related  gave  new  life  to  the  adhe- 
rents of  Catherine  of  Aragon,  while  it  filled  those  devoted 
to  Anne  Boleyn  with  alarm.  Immediately  on  Anne’s  re- 
turn to  the  castle,  Lord  Rochford  had  a private  interview 
with  her,  and  bitterly  reproached  her  for  endangering 
her  splendid  prospects.  Anne  treated  the  matter  very 
lightly ; said  it  was  only  a temporary  gust  of  jealousy ; 
and  added  that  the  king  would  be  at  her  feet  again  before 
the  day  was  past. 

“You  are  over-confident,  mistress!”  cried  Rochford, 
angrily.  “ Henry  is  not  an  ordinary  gallant.” 

“It  is  you  who  are  mistaken,  father,”  replied  Anne. 
“The  king  differs  in  no  respect  from  any  of  his  love- 
smitten  subjects.  I have  him  in  my  toils,  and  will  not 
let  him  escape.” 

“You  have  a tiger  in  your  toils,  daughter,  and  take 
heed  he  breaks  not  forcibly  through  them,”  rejoined 
Rochford.  “ Henry  is  more  wayward  than  you  suppose 
him.  Once  let  him  take  up  a notion,  and  nothing  can 
shake  him  from  it.  He  has  resolved  upon  the  divorce  as 
much  from  self-will  as  from  any  other  consideration.  If 
you  regain  your  position  with  him,  of  which  you  seem 
so  confident,  do  not  consider  yourself  secure — not  even 
when  you  are  crowned  queen — but  be  warned  by  Cather- 
ine of  Aragon,” 


88 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Catherine  has  not  the  art  to  retain  him/’  said  Anne. 
“ Henry  will  never  divorce  me” 

“Take  care  he  does  not  rid  himself  of  you  in  a more 
summary  manner,  daughter,”  rejoined  Rochford.  “If 
you  would  stand  well  with  him,  you  must  study  his 
lightest  word,  look,  and  action, — humor  him  in  every 
whim, — and  yield  to  every  caprice.  Above  all,  you  must 
exhibit  no  jealousy.” 

“ You  are  wrong  in  all  but  the  last,  father,”  returned 
Anne.  “ Henry  is  not  to  be  pleased  by  such  nice  attention 
to  his  humors.  It  is  because  I have  shown  myself  care- 
less of  them  that  I have  captivated  him.  But  I will  take 
care  not  to  exhibit  jealousy,  and  sooth  to  say,  I do  not 
think  I shall  have  cause.” 

“ Be  not  too  sure  of  that,”  replied  Rochford.  “ And, 
at  all  events,  let  not  the  king  have  cause  to  be  jealous  of 
you.  I trust  Wyat  will  be  banished  from  the  court. 
But  if  he  is  not,  do  not  let  him  approach  you  more.” 

“Poor  Sir  Thomas!”  sighed  Anne.  “He  loved  me 
very  dearly.” 

“ But  what  is  his  love  compared  to  the  king’s  ? ” cried 
Rochford.  “ Tut,  tut,  girl  I think  no  more  of  him.” 

“ I will  not,  my  lord,”  she  rejoined ; “ I see  the  prudence 
of  your  counsel,  and  will  obey  it.  Leave  me,  I pray  you. 
I will  soon  win  back  the  affections  of  the  king.” 

No  sooner  had  Rochford  quitted  the  chamber  than  the 
arras  at  the  further  end  was  raised,  and  Wyat  stepped 
from  behind  it.  His  first  proceeding  was  to  bar  the  door. 

“ What  means  this,  Sir  Thomas  ? ” cried  Anne,  in  alarm. 
“ How  have  you  obtained  admittance  here  ? ” 

“ Through  the  secret  staircase,”  replied  Wyat,  bending 
the  knee  before  her. 

“ Rise,  sir ! ” cried  Anne,  in  great  alarm — “ Return,  I 
beseech  you,  as  you  came.  You  have  greatly  endangered 
me  by  coming  here.  If  you  are  seen  to  leave  this  chamber, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


89 


it  will  be  in  vain  to  assert  my  innocence  to  Henry.  Oh, 
Sir  Thomas,  you  cannot  love  me,  or  you  would  not  have 
done  this ! ” 

“ Not  love  you,  Anne  ! ” he  repeated,  bitterly ; “ not 
love  you!  Words  cannot  speak  my  devotion.  I would 
lay  down  my  head  on  the  scaffold  to  prove  it.  But  for 
my  love  for  you,  I would  throw  open  that  door,  and  walk 
forth  so  that  all  might  see  me, — so  that  Henry  might 
experience  some  part  of  the  anguish  I now  feel.” 

“ But  you  will  not  do  so,  good  Sir  Thomas — dear  Sir 
Thomas,”  cried  Anne  Boleyn,  in  alarm. 

“ Have  no  fear,”  rejoined  Wyat,  with  some  contempt — 
“ I will  sacrifice  even  vengeance  to  love.” 

“ Sir  Thomas,  I have  tolerated  this  too  long,”  said  Anne, 
“ begone.  You  terrify  me.” 

“ It  is  my  last  interview  with  you,  Anne,”  said  Wyat, 
imploringly, — “do  not  abridge  it.  Oh,  bethink  you  of 
the  happy  hours  we  have  passed  together — of  the  vows 
we  have  interchanged — of  the  protestations  you  have 
listened  to,  and  returned — ay,  returned,  Anne.  Are  all 
these  forgotten  ? ” 

“Not  forgotten,  Sir  Thomas,”  replied  Anne,  mourn- 
fully ; “ but  they  must  not  be  recalled.  I cannot  listen 
to  you  longer.  You  must  go.  Heaven  grant  you  may 
get  hence  in  safety  ! ” 

“Anne,”  replied  Wyat,  in  a somber  tone,  “the  thought 
of  Henry’s  happiness  drives  me  mad.  I feel  that  I am 
grown  a traitor. — that  I could  slay  him.” 

“ Sir  Thomas ! ” she  exclaimed,  in  mingled  fear  and 
anger. 

“ I will  not  go,”  he  continued,  flinging  himself  into  a 
seat.  “Let  them  put  what  construction  they  will  upon 
my  presence.  I shall  at  least  wring  Henry’s  heart.  I shall 
see  him  suffer  as  I have  suffered ; and  I shall  be  content.” 

“This  is  not  like  you,  Wyat,”  cried  Anne,  in  great 


90 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


alarm.  “ You  were  wont  to  be  noble,  generous,  kind. 
You  will  not  act  thus  disloyally  ? ” 

“ Who  has  acted  disloyally,  Anne,”  cried  Wyat,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet,  and  fixing  his  dark  eyes,  blazing  with 
jealous  fury,  upon  her — “ you  or  I ? Have  you  not  sacri- 
ficed your  old  affections  at  the  shrine  of  ambition  ? Are 
you  not  about  to  give  yourself  to  one,  to  whom — unless 
you  are  forsworn — you  cannot  give  your  heart  ? Better 
had  you  been  the  mistress  of  Allington  Castle — better  the 
wife  of  a humble  knight  like  myself,  than  the  queen  of 
the  ruthless  Henry.” 

“ No  more  of  this,  Wyat,”  said  Anne. 

“ Better  far  you  should  perish  by  his  tyranny  for  a sup- 
posed fault  now  than  hereafter,”  pursued  Wyat,  fiercely. 
“ Think  not  Henry  will  respect  you  more  than  her  who 
has  been  eight  and  twenty  years  his  wife.  No,  when  he 
is  tired  of  your  charms — when  some  other  dame,  fair  as 
yourself,  shall  enslave  his  fancy,  he  will  cast  you  off,  or, 
as  your  father  truly  intimated,  will  seek  a readier  means 
of  ridding  himself  of  you.  Then  you  will  think  of  the 
different  fate  that  might  have  been  yours  if  you  had  ad- 
hered to  your  early  love.” 

“Wyat,  Wyat!  I cannot  bear  this, — in  mercy  spare 
me  ! ” cried  Anne. 

“ I am  glad  to  see  you  weep,”  said  Wyat ; “ your  tears 
make  you  look  more  like  your  former  self.” 

“Oh,  Wyat,  do  not  view  my  conduct  too  harshly!” 
she  said.  “ Few  of  my  sex  would  have  acted  other  than 
I have  done.” 

“ I do  not  think  so,”  replied  Wyat,  sternly;  “ nor  will 
I forego  my  vengeance.  Anne,  you  shall  die.  You  know 
Henry  too  well  to  doubt  your  fate  if  he  finds  me  here.” 

“You  cannot  mean  this,”  she  rejoined,  with  difficulty 
repressing  a scream ; “ but  if  I perish,  you  will  perish 
with  me.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


91 


“ I wish  to  do  so,”  he  rejoined,  with'a  bitter  laugh. 

“Wyat,”  cried  Anne,  throwing  herself  on  her  knees 
before  him,  “ by  your  former  love  for  me,  I implore  you 
to  spare  me ! Do  not  disgrace  me  thus.” 

But  Wyat  continued  inexorable. 

“ Oh  God ! ” exclaimed  Anne,  wringing  her  hands  in 
agony. 

A terrible  silence  ensued,  during  which  Anne  regarded 
Wyat,  but  she  could  discern  no  change  in  his  counte- 
nance. 

At  this  juncture,  the  tapestry  was  again  raised,  and  the 
Earl  of  Surrey  issued  from  it. 

“ You  here,  my  lord  ? ” said  Anne,  rushing  towards  him. 

“Iam  come  to  save  you,  madam,”  said  the  earl;  “I 
have  been  just  liberated  from  arrest,  and  was  about  to 
implore  your  intercession  with  the  king,  when  I learned 
he  had  been  informed  by  one  of  his  pages,  that  a man  was 
in  your  chamber.  Luckily,  he  knows  not  who  it  is,  and 
while  he  was  summoning  his  attendants  to  accompany 
him,  I hurried  hither  by  the  secret  staircase.  I have  ar- 
rived in  time.  Fly — fly ! Sir  Thomas  Wyat ! ” 

But  Wyat  moved  not. 

At  this  moment,  footsteps  were  heard  approaching  the 
door — the  handle  was  tried — and  the  stern  voice  of  the 
king  was  heard  commanding  that  it  might  be  opened. 

“Will  you  destroy  me,  Wyat?  ” cried  Anne. 

“ You  have  destroyed  yourself,”  he  rejoined. 

“Why  stay  you  here,  Sir  Thomas?”  said  Surrey, 
seizing  his  arm.  “ You  may  yet  escape.  By  heaven ! if 
you  move  not,  I will  stab  you  to  the  heart ! ” 

“You  would  do  me  a favor,  young  man,” said  Wyat, 
coldly ; “ but  I will  go.  I yield  to  love,  and  not  to  you, 
tyrant ! ” he  added,  shaking  his  hand  at  the  door.  “ May 
the  worst  pangs  of  jealousy  rend  your  heart ! ” And  he 
disappeared  behind  the  arras, 


92 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“I  hear  voices,”  cried  Henry  from  without.  “ God’s 
death ! madam,  open  the  door — or  I will  burst  it  open ! ” 

“ Oh  heaven  ! what  is  to  be  done  ! ” cried  Anne  Boleyn, 
in  despair. 

“Open  the  door,  and  leave  all  to  me,  madam,”  said 
Surrey ; “ I will  save  you,  though  it  cost  me  my  life ! ” 

Anne  pressed  his  hand,  with  a look  of  ineffable  grati- 
tude, and  Surrey  concealed  himself  behind  the  arras. 

The  door  was  opened,  and  Henry  rushed  in,  followed 
by  Richmond,  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  and  a host  of  attend- 
ants. 

“ Ah ! God’s  death  ! where  is  the  traitor  ? ” roared  the 
king,  gazing  round. 

“ Why  is  my  privacy  thus  broken  upon  ? ” said  Anne, 
assuming  a look  of  indignation. 

“Your  privacy!”  echoed  Henry,  in  a tone  of  deep 
derision — “ your  privacy  ! — ha!  ha!  You  bear  yourself 
bravely,  it  must  be  confessed.  My  lords,  you  heard  the 
voices  as  well  as  myself.  Where  is  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  ? ” 

“ He  is  not  here,”  replied  Anne,  firmly. 

“Aha!  we  shall  see  that,  mistress,”  rejoined  Henry, 
fiercely.  “ But  if  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  is  not  here — who  is  ? 
for  I am  well  assured  that  some  one  is  hidden  in  your 
chamber.” 

“ What  if  there  be  ? ” rejoined  Anne,  coldly. 

“ Ah  ! by  Saint  Mary,  you  confess  it ! ” cried  the  king. 
“ Let  the  traitor  come  forth.” 

“ Your  majesty  shall  not  need  to  bid  twice,”  said  Sur- 
rey, issuing  from  his  concealment. 

“ The  Earl  of  Surrey  ! ” exclaimed  Henry,  in  surprise. 
“ How  come  you  here,  my  lord  ? Methought  you  were 
under  arrest  at  the  guard-house.” 

“ He  was  set  free  by  my  orders,”  said  the  Duke  of  Rich- 
mond. 

“ First  of  all,  I must  entreat  your  majesty  to  turn  your 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


93 


resentment  against  me,”  said  the  Earl.  44 1 am  solely  to 
blame,  and  I would  not  have  the  Lady  Anne  suffer  for  my 
fault.  I forced  myself  into  her  presence.  She  knew  not 
of  my  coming.” 

“And  wherefore  did  you  so,  my  lord?”  demanded 
Henry,  sternly. 

“Liberated  from  the  guard-house,  at  the  Duke  of 
Richmond’s  instance,  my  liege,  I came  to  entreat  the 
Lady  Anne  to  mediate  between  me  and  your  majesty,  and 
to  use  her  influence  with  your  highness  to  have  me 
betrothed  to  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Fitzgerald.” 

44  Is  this  so,  madam  ? ” asked  the  king. 

Anne  bowed  her  head. 

44  But  why  was  the  door  barred  ? ” demanded  Henry, 
again  frowning  suspiciously. 

44 1 barred  it  myself,”  said  Surrey,  44  and  vowed  that  the 
Lady  Anne  should  not  go  forth  till  she  had  granted  my 
request.” 

44  By  our  Lady ! you  have  placed  yourself  in  peril,  my 
lord,”  said  Henry,  sternly. 

44  Your  majesty  will  bear  in  mind  his  youth,”  said  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  anxiously. 

44  For  my  sake  overlook  the  indiscretion,”  cried  the  Duke 
of  Richmond. 

44  It  will  not,  perhaps,  avail  him  to  hope  that  it  may  be 
overlooked  for  mine,”  added  Anne  Boleyn.  v 

44  The  offense  must  not  pass  unpunished,”  said  Henry, 
musingly.  44  My  lord  of  Surrey,  you  must  be  content  to 
remain  for  two  months  a prisoner  in  the  Round  Tower  of 
this  castle.” 

44  Your  majesty ! ” cried  Richmond,  bending  the  knee  in 
supplication. 

44  The  sentence  is  passed,”  replied  Henry,  coldly ; 44  and 
the  earl  may  thank  you  it  is  not  heavier.  Richmond,  you 
will  think  no  more  of  the  fair  Geraldine ; and  it  is  my 


94 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


pleasure,  Lady  Anne,  that  the  young  dame  withdraw 
from  the  court  for  a short  while.” 

“ Your  majesty  shall  be  obeyed,”  said  Anne  ; “ but ” 

“ But  me  no  buts,  sweetheart,”  said  the  king,  peremp- 
torily. “ Surrey’s  explanation  is  satisfactory  so  far  as  it 
goes,  but  I was  told  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  was  here.” 

“ Sir  Thomas  Wyat  is  here,”  said  Will  Sommers,  point- 
ing out  the  knight,  who  had  just  joined  the  throng  of 
courtiers  at  the  door. 

“ I have  hurried  hither  from  my  chamber,  my  liege,” 
said  W yat,  stepping  forward,  “ hearing  there  was  some 
inquiry  concerning  me.” 

“ Is  your  majesty  now  satisfied  ? ” asked  Anne  Boleyn. 

“ Why,  ay,  sweetheart,  well  enough,”  rejoined  Henry. 
“ Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  we  have  a special  mission  for  you  to 
the  court  of  our  brother  of  France.  You  will  set  out  to- 
morrow.” 

Wyat  bowed. 

“You  have  saved  your  head,  gossip,”  whispered  Will 
Sommers  in  the  knight’s  ear.  “ A visit  to  Francis  the 
First  is  better  than  a visit  to  the  Tower.” 

“ Retire,  my  lords,”  said  Henry,  to  the  assemblage ; 
“ we  owe  some  apology  to  the  Lady  Anne  for  our  intrusion, 
and  desire  an  opportunity  to  make  it.” 

Upon  this,  the  chamber  was  instantly  cleared  of  its 
occupants,  and  the  Earl  of  Surrey  was  conducted  under  a 
guard  to  the  Round  Tower. 

Henry,  however,  did  not  find  it  an  easy  matter  to  make 
peace  with  the  Lady  Anne.  Conscious  of  the  advantage 
she  had  gained,  she  determined  not  to  relinquish  it,  and 
after  half  an  hour’s  vain  suing,  her  royal  lover  proposed  a 
turn  in  the  long  gallery,  upon  which  her  apartments 
opened.  Here  they  continued  conversing — Henry  plead- 
ing in  the  most  passionate  manner,  and  Anne  maintaining 
a show  of  offended  pride. 

■ 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


95 


At  last,  she  exhibited  some  signs  of  relenting,  and 
Henry  led  her  into  a recess  in  the  gallery,  lighted  by  a 
window  filled  with  magnificent  stained  glass.  In  this 
recess  was  a seat  and  a small  table,  on  which  stood  a vase 
filled  with  flowers,  arranged  by  Anne’s  own  hand ; and 
here  the  monarch  hoped  to  adjust  his  differences  with  her. 

Meanwhile,  word  having  reached  Wolsey  and  Cam- 
peggio  of  the  new  cause  of  jealousy  which  the  king  had 
received,  it  was  instantly  resolved  that  the  former  should 
present  to  him,  while  in  his  present  favorable  mood,  a 
despatch  received  that  morning  from  Catherine  of  Ar- 
agon. 

Armed  with  the  letter,  Wolsey  repaired  to  the  king’s 
closet.  Not  finding  him  there,  and  being  given  to  under- 
stand by  an  usher  that  he  was  in  the  great  gallery,  he 
proceeded  thither.  As  he  walked  softly  along  the 
polished  oak  floor,  he  heard  voices  in  one  of  the  recesses, 
and  distinguished  the  tones  of  Henry  and  Anne  Boleyn. 

Henry  was  clasping  the  snowy  fingers  of  his  favorite, 
and  gazing  passionately  at  her,  as  the  cardinal  approached. 

“ Your  majesty  shall  not  detain  my  hand,”  said  Anne, 
“ unless  you  swear  to  me,  by  your  crown,  that  you  will 
not  again  be  jealous  without  cause.” 

“ I swear  it ! ” replied  Henry. 

“Were  your  majesty  as  devoted  to  me  as  you  would 
have  me  believe,  you  would  soon  bring  this  matter  of  the 
divorce  to  an  issue,”  said  Anne. 

“ I would  fain  do  so,  sweetheart,”  rejoined  Henry ; “but 
these  cardinals  perplex  me  sorely.” 

“I  am  told  by  one  who  overheard  him,  that  Wolsey 
has  declared  the  divorce  shall  not  be  settled  these  two 
years,”  said  Anne  ; “in  which  case  it  had  better  not  be 
settled  at  all ; for  I care  not  to  avow  I cannot  brook  so 
much  delay.  The  warmth  of  my  affection  will  grow  icy 
cold  by  that  time.” 


96 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ It  were  enough  to  try  the  patience  of  the  most  for- 
bearing,” rejoined  the  king,  smiling — “ but  it  shall  not  be 
so — by  this  lily  hand  it  shall  not ! And  now,  sweetheart, 
are  we  entirely  reconciled  ? ” 

“ Not  yet,”  replied  Anne.  “I  shall  claim  a boon  from 
your  majesty  before  I accord  my  entire  forgiveness.” 

“Name  it,”  said  the  king,  still  clasping  her  hand  ten- 
derly, and  intoxicated  by  the  witchery  of  her  glance. 

“ I ask  an  important  favor,”  said  Anne — “ but  as  it  is 
one  which  will  benefit  your  majesty  as  much  as  myself, 
I have  the  less  scruple  in  requesting  it.  I ask  the 
dismissal  of  one  who  has  abused  your  favor — who,  by 
his  extortion  and  rapacity,  has  in  some  degree  alienated 
the  affections  of  your  subjects  from  you — and  who  solely 
opposes  your  divorce  from  Catherine  of  Aragon  because 
he  fears  my  influence  may  be  prejudicial  to  him.” 

“ You  cannot  mean  Wolsey  ?”  said  Henry,  uneasily. 

“ Your  majesty  has  guessed  aright,”  replied  Anne. 

“ Wolsey  has  incurred  my  displeasure  oft  of  late,”  said 
Henry,  “ and  yet  his  fidelity ” 

“ Be  not  deceived,  my  liege,”  said  Anne ; “ he  is  faithful 
to  you  only  so  far  as  serves  his  turn.  He  thinks  he  rules 
you.” 

Before  Henry  could  reply,  the  cardinal  stepped  forward. 

“ I bring  your  majesty  a despatch,  just  received  from 
the  queen,”  he  said. 

“ And  you  have  been  listening  to  our  discourse  ? ” 
rejoined  Henry,  sternly.  “ You  have  overheard ” 

“ Enough  to  convince  me,  if  I had  previously  doubted 
it,  that  the  Lady  Anne  Boleyn  is  my  mortal  foe,”  replied 
Wolsey. 

“ Foe  though  I am,  I will  make  terms  with  your  em- 
inence,” said  Anne.  44  Expedite  the  divorce — you  can  do 
so  if  you  will, — and  I am  your  fast  friend.” 

44 1 know  too  well  the  value  of  your  friendship,  noble 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


9? 

lady,  not  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  gain  it,”  replied  Wolsey. 
“ I will  further  the  matter,  if  possible.  But  it  rests  chiefly 
in  the  hands  of  his  holiness,  Pope  Clement  the  Seventh.” 

“If  his  majesty  will  listen  to  my  counsel,  he  will  throw 
off  the  pope’s  yoke  altogether,”  rejoined  Anne.  “ Nay, 
your  eminence  may  frown  at  me  if  you  will.  Such,  I 
repeat,  shall  be  my  counsel.  If  the  divorce  is  speedily 
obtained,  I am  your  friend : if  not — look  to  yourself.” 

“Do  not  appeal  to  me,  Wolsey,”  said  Henry,  smiling 
approval  at  Anne — “ I shall  uphold  her.” 

“ Will  it  please  your  majesty  to  peruse  this  despatch  ?” 
said  Wolsey,  again  offering  Catherine’s  letter. 

“ Take  it  to  my  closet,”  replied  the  king  ; “ I will  join 
you  there.  And  now  at  last  we  are  good  friends,  sweet- 
heart.” 

“ Excellent  friends,  my  dear  liege,”  replied  Anne ; “ but 
I shall  never  be  your  queen  while  Wolsey  holds  his 
place.” 

“ Then,  indeed,  he  shall  lose  it,”  replied  Henry. 

“ She  is  a bitter  enemy,  certes,”  muttered  Wolsey,  as 
he  walked  away.  “ I must  overthrow  her  quickly,  or  she 
will  overthrow  me.  A rival  must  be  found — ay,  a rival — 
but  where  ? I was  told  that  Henry  cast  eyes  on  a comely 
forester’s  daughter  at  the  chase  this  morning.  She  may 
do  for  the  nonce.” 


98 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OP  THE  MYSTERIOUS  DISAPPEARANCE  OF  HERNE  THE 
HUNTER  IN  THE  LAKE. 

Unable  to  procure  any  mitigation  of  Surrey’s  sentence, 
the  Duke  of  Richmond  proceeded  to  the  Round  Tower, 
where  he  found  his  friend  in  a small  chamber,  endeavor- 
ing to  beguile  his  captivity  by  study. 

Richmond  endeavored  to  console  him,  and  was  glad 
to  find  him  in  better  spirits  than  he  expected.  Early 
youth  is  seldom  long  dejected ; and  misfortunes,  at  that 
buoyant  season,  seem  lighter  than  they  appear  later  on  in 
life.  The  cause  for  which  he  suffered,  moreover,  sustained 
Surrey,  and  confident  of  the  fair  Geraldine’s  attachment, 
he  cared  little  for  the  restraint  imposed  upon  him.  On 
one  point  he  expressed  some  regret, — namely,  his  inabil- 
ity to  prosecute  the  adventure  of  Herne  the  hunter  with 
the  duke. 

“ I grieve  that  I cannot  accompany  you,  Richmond,” 
he  said ; “ but  since  that  is  impossible,  let  me  recommend 
you  to  take  the  stout  archer  who  goes  by  the  name  of  the 
Duke  of  Shoreditch  with  you.  He  is  the  very  man  you 
require.” 

After  some  consideration,  the  duke  assented,  and,  prom- 
ising to  return  on  the  following  day  and  report  what 
had  occurred,  he  took  his  leave,  and  went  in  search  of 
the  archer  in  question.  Finding  he  had  taken  up  his 
quarters  at  the  Garter,  he  sent  for  him,  and  proposed  the 
matter. 

Shoreditch  heard  the  duke’s  relation  with  astonish- 
ment, but  expressed  the  greatest  willingness  to  accom- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  99 

pany  him,  pledging  himself,  as  Richmond  demanded,  to 
profound  secrecy  on  the  subject. 

At  the  appointed  hour — namely,  midnight — the  duke 
quitted  the  castle,  and  found  Shoreditch  waiting  for  him 
near  the  upper  gate.  The  latter  was  armed  with  a stout 
staff,  and  a bow  and  arrows. 

“ If  we  gain  sight  of  the  mysterious  horseman  to-night,” 
he  said,  “ a cloth-yard  shaft  shall  try  whether  he  is  of  mor- 
tal mold  or  not.  If  he  be  not  a demon,  I will  warrant 
he  rides  no  more.” 

Quitting  the  Home  Park,  they  shaped  their  course  at 
once  towards  the  forest.  It  was  a stormy  night,  and  the 
moon  was  obscured  by  thick  clouds.  Before  they  reached 
the  hill,  at  the  head  of  the  long  avenue,  a heavy  thunder- 
storm came  on,  and  the  lightning,  playing  among  the 
trees,  seemed  to  reveal  a thousand  fantastic  forms  to  their 
half-blinded  gaze.  Presently  the  rain  began  to  descend 
in  torrents,  and  compelled  them  to  take  refuge  beneath  a 
large  beech-tree. 

It  was  evident,  notwithstanding  his  boasting,  that  the 
courage  of  Shoreditch  was  waning  fast,  and  he  at  last 
proposed  to  his  leader  that  they  should  return  as  soon  as 
the'  rain  abated.  But  the  duke  indignantly  rejected  the 
proposal. 

While  they  were  thus  sheltering  themselves,  the  low 
winding  of  a horn  was  heard.  The  sound  was  succeeded 
by  the  trampling  of  horses’  hoofs,  and  the  next  moment 
a vivid  flash  of  lightning  showed  a hart  darting  past,  fol- 
lowed by  a troop  of  some  twenty  ghostly  horsemen, 
headed  by  the  demon  hunter. 

The  Duke  of  Richmond  bade  his  companion  send  a 
shaft  after  them ; but  the  latter  was  so  overcome  by  ter- 
ror, that  he  could  scarcely  fix  an  arrow  on  the  string,  and 
when  he  bent  the  bow  the  shaft  glanced  from  the 
branches  of  an  adjoining  tree. 


ioo 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


The  storm  continued  with  unabated  fury  for  nearly  an 
hour,  at  the  expiration  of  which  time  it  partially  cleared 
off,  and  though  it  was  still  profoundly  dark,  the  duke  in- 
sisted upon  going  on.  So  they  pressed  forward  beneath 
the  dripping  trees,  and  through  the  wet  grass.  Ever  and 
anon,  the  moon  broke  through  the  rifted  clouds,  and 
shed  a wild  glimmer  upon  the  scene. 

As  they  were  tracking  a glade  on  the  further  side  of 
the  hill,  the  spectral  huntsmen  again  swept  past  them, 
and  so  closely,  that  they  could  almost  touch  their  horses. 
To  the  duke’s  horror  he  perceived  among  them  the  body 
of  the  butcher,  Mark  Fytton,  sitting  erect  upon  a power- 
ful black  steed. 

By  this  time,  Shoreditch,  having  somewhat  regained 
his  courage,  discharged  another  shaft  at  the  troop.  The 
arrow  struck  the  body  of  the  butcher,  and  completely 
transfixed  it,  but  did  not  check  his  career  ; while  wild  and 
derisive  laughter  broke  from  the  rest  of  the  cavalcade. 

The  Duke  of  Richmond  hurried  after  the  band,  trying 
to  keep  them  in  sight;  and  Shoreditch,  flinging  down  his 
bow,  which  he  found  useless,  and  grasping  his  staff,  en- 
deavored to  keep  up  with  him.  But  though  they  ran 
swiftly  down  the  glade,  and  tried  to  peer  through  the 
darkness,  they  could  see  nothing  more  of  the  ghostly 
company. 

After  a while,  they  arrived  at  a hillside,  at  the  foot  of 
which  lay  the  lake,  whose  darkling  waters  were  just  dis- 
tinguishable through  an  opening  in  the  trees.  As  the 
duke  was  debating  with  himself  whether  to  go  on,  or 
retrace  his  course,  the  trampling  of  a horse  was  heard 
behind  them,  and  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  sound, 
they  beheld  Herne  the  hunter,  mounted  on  his  swarthy 
steed,  and  accompanied  only  by  his  two  black  hounds, 
galloping  furiously  down  the  declivity.  Before  him  flew 
the  owl,  whooping  as  it  sailed  along  the  air. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


101 


The  demon  hunter  was  so  close  to  them,  that  they 
could  perfectly  discern  his  horrible  lineaments,  the  chain 
depending  from  his  neck,  and  his  antlered  helm.  Rich- 
mond shouted  to  him,  but  the  rider  continued  his  head- 
long course  towards  the  lake,  heedless  of  the  call. 

The  two  beholders  rushed  forward,  but  by  this  time 
the  huntsman  had  gained  the  edge  of  the  lake.  One  of 
his  sable  hounds  plunged  into  it,  and  the  owl  skimmed 
over  its  surface.  Even  in  the  hasty  view  which  the  duke 
caught  of  the  flying  figure,  he  fancied  he  perceived  that 
it  was  attended  by  a fantastic  shadow,  whether  cast  by 
itself,  or  arising  from  some  supernatural  cause,  he  could 
not  determine. 

But  what  followed  was  equally  marvelous  and  incom- 
prehensible. As  the  wild  huntsman  reached  the  brink 
of  the  lake,  he  placed  a horn  to  his  mouth,  and  blew  from 
it  a bright  blue  flame,  which  illumined  his  own  dusky 
and  hideous  features,  and  shed  a wild  and  unearthly 
glimmer  over  the  surrounding  objects. 

While  enveloped  in  this  flame,  the  demon  plunged  into 
the  lake,  and  apparently  descended  to  its  abysses,  for  as 
soon  as  the  duke  could  muster  courage  to  approach  its 
brink,  nothing  could  be  seen  of  him,  his  steed,  or  his 
hounds. 


{Thus  en£>s  tbe  afirst  $ook  of  tbe  Chronicle  of 
‘CHUnDsor  Castle. 


ISooft  tbe  Second 


HERNE  THE  HUNTER. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


105 


CHAPTER  I. 

OP  THE  COMPACT  BETWEEN  SIR  THOMAS  WYAT  AND 
HERNE  THE  HUNTER. 

' On  the  day  after  his  secret  interview  with  Anne 
Boleyn,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  received  despatches  from  the 
king  for  the  court  of  France.  “ His  majesty  bade  me  tell 
you  to  make  your  preparations  quickly,  Sir  Thomas,” 
said  the  messenger  who  delivered  the  despatches.  “ He 
cares  not  how  soon  you  set  forth.” 

“ The  king’s  pleasure  shall  be  obeyed,”  rejoined  Wyat. 

And  the  messenger  retired. 

Left  alone,  Wyat  remained  for  some  time  in  profound 
and  melancholy  thought.  Heaving  a deep  sigh,  he  then 
arose,  and  paced  the  chamber  with  rapid  strides. 

“Yes,  it  is  better  thus,”  he  ejaculated;  “if  I remain 
near  her,  I shall  do  some  desperate  deed.  Better — far 
better — I should  go.  And  yet  to  leave  her  with  Henry 
— to  know  that  he  is  ever  near  her — that  he  drinks 
in  the  music  of  her  voice,  and  basks  in  the  sun- 
shine of  her  smile — while  I am  driven  forth  to  darkness 
and  despair — the  thought  is  madness ! I will  not  obey 
the  hateful  mandate ! I will  stay  and  defy  him  ! ” 

As  he  uttered  aloud  this  wild  and  unguarded  speech, 
the  arras  screening  the  door  was  drawn  aside,  and  gave 
admittance  to  Wolsey. 

Wyat’s  gaze  sunk  before  the  penetrating  glance  fixed 
upon  him  by  the  cardinal. 

“ I did  not  come  to  play  the  eavesdropper,  Sir 
Thomas,”  said  Wolsey;  “but  I have  heard  enough  to 
place  your  life  in  my  power.  So,  you  refuse  to  obey  the 
king’s  injunctions.  You  refuse  to  proceed  to  Paris.  You 


106 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


refuse  to  assist  in  bringing  about  the  divorce,  and  prefer 
remaining  here  to  brave  your  sovereign,  and  avenge  your- 
self upon  a fickle  mistress.  Ha  ? ” 

Wyat  returned  no  answer. 

“If  such  be  your  purpose,”  pursued  Wolsey,  after  a 
pause,  during  which  he  intently  scrutinized  the  knight’s 
countenance,  “ I will  assist  you  in  it.  Be  ruled  by  me, 
and  you  shall  have  a deep  and  full  revenge.” 

“Say  on,”  rejoined  Wyat; — his  eyes  blazing  with  in- 
fernal fire,  and  his  hand  involuntarily  clutching  the 
handle  of  his  dagger. 

“ If  I read  you  aright,”  continued  the  cardinal,  “ you 
are  arrived  at  that  pitch  of  desperation,  when  life  itself 
becomes  indifferent,  and  when  but  one  object  remains  to 
be  gained ” 

“And  that  is  vengeance  ! ” interrupted  Wyat,  fiercely. 
“ Right,  cardinal — right.  I will  have  vengeance — terrible 
vengeance ! ” 

“ You  shall.  But  I will  not  deceive  you.  You  will 
purchase  what  you  seek  at  the  price  of  your  own  head.” 

“I  care  not,”  replied  Wyat.  “All  sentiments  of  love 
and  loyalty  are  swallowed  up  by  jealousy  and  burning 
hate.  Nothing  but  blood  can  allay  the  fever  that  con- 
sumes me.  Show  me  how  to  slay  him  ! ” 

“ Him ! ” echoed  the  cardinal,  in  alarm  and  horror. 
“Wretch ! would  you  kill  your  king?  God  forbid  that  I 
should  counsel  the  injury  of  a hair  of  his  head  ! I do  not 
want  you  to  play  the  assassin,  Wyat,”  he  added,  more 
calmly,  “but  the  just  avenger.  Liberate  the  king  from 
the  thraldom  of  the  capricious  syren  who  enslaves  him, 
and  you  will  do  a service  to  the  whole  country.  A word 
from  you — a letter — a token — will  cast  her  from  the 
king,  and  place  her  on  the  block.  And  what  matter? 
The  gory  scaffold  were  better  than  Henry’s  bed.” 

“I  cannot  harm  her,”  cried  Wyat,  distractedly.  “I 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


107 


love  her  still,  devotedly  as  ever.  She  was  in  my  power 
yesterday,  and  without  your  aid,  cardinal,  I could  have 
wreaked  my  vengeance  upon  her,  if  I had  been  so 
minded.” 

“You  were  then  in  her  chamber,  as  the  king  sus- 
pected?” cried  Wolsey,  with  a look  of  exultation. 
“ Trouble  yourself  no  more,  Sir  Thomas.  I will  take  the 
part  of  vengeance  off  your  hands.” 

“ My  indiscretion  will  avail  you  little,  cardinal,”  replied 
Wyat,  sternly.  “ A hasty  word  proves  nothing.  I will 
perish  on  the  rack  sooner  than  accuse  Anne  Boleyn.  I 
am  a desperate  man,  but  not  so  desperate  as  you  suppose 
me.  A moment  ago,  I might  have  been  led  on,  by  the 
murderous  and  traitorous  impulse  that  prompted  me  to 
lift  my  hand  against  the  king,  but  I never  could  have 
injured  her.” 

“You  are  a madman!”  cried  Wolsey,  impatiently. 
“ and  it  is  a waste  of  time  to  argue  with  you.  I wish  you 
good  speed  on  your  journey.  On  your  return,  you  will 
find  Anne  Boleyn  Queen  of  England.” 

“And  you  disgraced,”  rejoined  Wyat,  as,  with  a ma- 
lignant and  vindictive  look,  the  cardinal  quitted  the 
chamber. 

Again  left  alone,  Wyat  fell  into  another  fit  of  despond- 
ency, from  which  he  roused  himself  with  difficulty,  and 
went  forth  to  visit  the  Earl  of  Surrey  in  the  Round  Tower. 

Some  delay  occurred  before  he  could  obtain  access  to 
the  earl.  The  halberdier  stationed  at  the  entrance  to  the 
keep  near  the  Norman  Tower,  refused  to  admit  him  with- 
out the  order  of  the  officer  in  command  of  the  Tower,  and 
as  the  latter  was  not  in  the  way  at  the  moment,  Wyat 
had  to  remain  without,  till  he  made  his  appearance. 

While  thus  detained,  he  beheld  Anne  Boleyn  and  her 
royal  lover  mount  their  steeds,  in  the  upper  ward,  and 
ride  forth,  with  their  attendants,  on  a hawking  expedi- 


108 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


tion.  Anne  Boleyn  bore  a beautiful  falcon  on  her  wrist — 
Wyat’s  own  gift  to  her  in  happier  days — and  looked  full 
of  coquetry,  animation,  and  delight — without  the  vestige 
of  a cloud  upon  her  brow,  or  a care  on  her  countenance. 
With  increased  bitterness  of  heart,  he  turned  from  the 
sight,  and  shrouded  himself  beneath  the  gateway  of  the 
Norman  Tower. 

Soon  after  this,  the  officer  appeared,  and  at  once  accord- 
ing Wyat  permission  to  see  the  earl,  preceded  him  up  the 
long  flight  of  stone  steps  communicating  with  the  upper 
part  of  the  keep,  and  screened  by  an  embattled  and 
turreted  structure,  constituting  a covered  way  to  the 
Round  Tower. 

Arrived  at  the  landing,  the  officer  unlocked  a door  on 
the  left,  and  ushered  his  companion  into  the  prisoner’s 
chamber. 

Influenced  by  the  circular  shape  of  the  structure  in 
which  it  was  situated,  and  of  which  it  formed  a segment, 
the  further  part  of  this  chamber  was  almost  lost  to  view, 
and  a number  of  cross-beams  and  wooden  pillars  added  to 
its  somber  and  mysterious  appearance.  The  walls  were 
of  enormous  thickness,  and  a narrow  loophole,  termina- 
ting a deep  embrasure,  afforded  but  scanty  light.  Oppo- 
site the  embrasure  sat  Surrey,  at  a small  table  covered 
with  books  and  writing  materials.  A lute  lay  beside 
him  on  the  floor,  and  there  were  several  astrological  and 
alchemical  implements  within  reach. 

So  immersed  was  the  youthful  prisoner  in  study,  that 
he  was  not  aware,  until  a slight  exclamation  was  uttered 
by  Wyat,  of  the  entrance  of  the  latter.  He  then  arose, 
and  gave  him  welcome. 

Nothing  material  passed  between  them  as  long  as  the 
officer  remained  in  the  chamber,  but  on  his  departure, 
Surrey  observed,  laughingly,  to  his  friend — “ And  how 
doth  my  fair  cousin,  the  Lady  Anne  Boleyn  ? ” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


109 


“ She  has  just  ridden  forth  with  the  king,  to  hawk  in 
the  park,”  replied  Wyat,  moodily.  “ For  myself,  I am 
ordered  on  a mission  to  France,  but  I could  not  depart 
without  entreating  your  forgiveness  for  the  jeopardy  in 
which  I have  placed  you.  Would  I could  take  your 
place.” 

“ Do  not  heed  me,”  replied  Surrey — “ I am  well  content 
with  what  has  happened.  Virgil  and  Homer,  Dante  and 
Petrarch,  are  the  companions  of  my  confinement : and  in 
good  sooth,  I am  glad  to  be  alone.  Amid  the  distractions 
of  the  court,  I could  find  little  leisure  for  the  Muse.” 

“ Your  situation  is,  in  many  respects,  enviable,  Surrey,” 
replied  Wyat.  “ Disturbed  by  no  jealous  doubts  and 
fears,  you  can  beguile  the  tedious  hours  in  the  cultivation 
of  your  poetical  tastes,  or  in  study.  Still,  I must  needs 
reproach  myself  with  being  the  cause  of  your  imprison- 
ment.” 

“ I repeat  you  have  done  me  a service,”  rejoined  the 
earl.  “ I would  lay  down  my  life  for  my  fair  cousin, 
Anne  Boleyn,  and  I am  glad  to  be  able  to  prove  the  sin- 
cerity of  my  regard  for  you,  Wyat.  I applaud  the  king’s 
judgment  in  sending  you  to  France,  and  if  you  will  be 
counseled  by  me,  you  will  stay  there  long  enough  to  for- 
get her  who  now  occasions  you  so  much  uneasiness.” 

“ Will  the  fair  Geraldine  be  forgotten  when  the  term  of 
your  imprisonment  shall  expire,  my  lord?  ” asked  Wyat. 

“ Of  a surety,  not,”  replied  the  earl. 

“ And  yet,  in  less  than  two  months,  I shall  return  from 
France,”  rejoined  Wyat. 

“ Our  cases  are  not  alike,”  said  Surrey.  “ The  Lady 
Elizabeth  Fitzgerald  has  plighted  her  troth  to  me.” 

“ Anne  Boleyn  vowed  eternal  constancy  to  me,”  cried 
Wyat,  bitterly  : “ and  you  see  how  she  has  kept  her  oath ! 
The  absent  are  always  in  danger ; and  few  women  are 
proof  against  ambition.  Vanity— vanity  is  the  rock  they 


110 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


split  upon.  May  you  never  experience  from  Richmond 
the  wrong  I have  experienced  from  his  father.” 

“ I have  no  fear,”  replied  Surrey. 

As  he  spoke,  there  was  a slight  noise  in  that  part  of 
the  chamber  which  was  buried  in  darkness. 

“Have  we  a listener  here?  ” cried  Wyat,  grasping  his 
sword. 

“ Not  unless  it  be  a four-legged  one  from  the  dungeons 
beneath,”  replied  Surrey.  “But  you  were  speaking  of 
Richmond.  He  visited  me  this  morning,  and  came  to 
relate  the  particulars  of  a mysterious  adventure  that 
occurred  to  him  last  night.” 

And  the  earl  proceeded  to  detail  what  had  befallen  the 
duke  in  the  forest. 

“A  marvelous  story,  truly!”  said  Wyat,  pondering 
upon  the  relation.  “ I will  seek  out  the  demon  huntsman 
myself.” 

Again,  a noise  similar  to  that  heard  a moment  before, 
resounded  from  the  lower  part  of  the  room.  Wyat  im- 
mediately flew  thither,  and  drawing  his  sword,  searched 
about  with  its  point,  but  ineffectually. 

“ It  could  not  be  fancy,”  he  said ; “ and  yet  nothing  is 
to  be  found.” 

“I  do  not  like  jesting  about  Herne  the  hunter,”  re- 
marked Surrey,  “ after  what  I myself  have  seen.  In  your 
present  frame  of  mind,  I advise  you  not  to  hazard  an 
interview  with  the  fiend.  He  has  power  over  the  des- 
perate.” 

Wyat  returned  no  answer.  He  seemed  lost  in  gloomy 
thought,  and  soon  afterwards  took  his  leave. 

On  returning  to  his  lodgings,  he  summoned  his  attend- 
ants, and  ordered  them  to  proceed  to  Kingston ; adding 
that  he  would  join  them  there  early  next  morning.  One 
of  them,  an  old  serving  man,  noticing  the  exceeding  hag- 
gardness of  his  looks,  endeavored  to  persuade  him  to  go 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Ill 


with  them;  but  Wyat,  with  a harshness  totally  unlike 
his  customary  manner,  which  was  gracious  and  kindly, 
in  the  extreme,  peremptorily  refused. 

“ You  look  very  ill,  Sir  Thomas,”  said  the  old  servant; 
“ worse  than  I ever  remember  seeing  you.  Listen  to  my 
counsel,  I beseech  you.  Plead  ill  health  with  the  King  in 
excuse  of  your  mission  to  France,  and  retire,  for  some 
months,  to  recruit  your  strength  and  spirits  at  Allington.” 

“ Tush  ! Adam  Twisden — I am  well  enough,”  ex- 
claimed Wyat,  impatiently.  “ Go  and  prepare  my  mails.” 

“ My  dear,  dear  master,”  cried  old  Adam,  bending  the 
knee  before  him,  and  pressing  his  hands  to  his  lips; 
“ something  tells  me  that  if  I leave  you  now,  I shall  never 
see  you  again.  There  is  a paleness  in  your  cheek,  and  a 
fire  in  your  eye,  such  as  I never  before  observed  in  you 
or  in  mortal  man.  I tremble  to  say  it,  but  you  look  like 
one  possessed  by  the  fiend.  Forgive  my  boldness,  sir. 
I speak  from  affection  and  duty.  I was  serving-man  to 
your  father,  good  Sir  Henry  Wyat,  before  you,  and  I love 
you  as  a son,  while  I honor  you  as  a master.  I have  heard 
that  there  are  evil  beings  in  the  forest — nay,  even  within 
the  castle — who  lure  men  to  perdition  by  promising  to 
accomplish  their  wicked  desires.  I trust  no  such  being 
has  crossed  your  path.” 

“ Make  yourself  easy,  good  Adam,”  replied  Wyat;  “no 
fiend  has  tempted  me.” 

“ Swear  it,  sir,”  cried  the  old  man,  eagerly, — “ swear  it 
by  the  Holy  Trinity  ! ” 

“ By  the  Holy  Trinity,  I swear  it ! ” replied  Wyat. 

As  the  words  were  uttered,  the  door  behind  the  arras 
was  suddenly  shut  with  violence. 

“ Curses  on  you,  villain  ! you  have  left  the  door  open ! ” 
cried  Wyat,  fiercely.  “Our  conversation  has  been  over- 
heard.” 

“I  will  soon  see  by  whom,”  cried  Adam,  springing  to 


112 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


his  feet,  and  rushing  towards  the  door,  which  opened 
upon  a long  corridor. 

“Well!  ” cried  Wyat,  as  Adam  returned  the  next  mo- 
ment with  cheeks  almost  as  white  as  his  own — “ was  it 
the  cardinal  ? ” 

“ It  was  the  devil,  I believe  ! ” replied  the  old  man.  “ I 
could  see  no  one.” 

“ It  would  not  require  supernatural  power  to  retreat 
into  an  adjoining  chamber,  fool ! ” replied  Wyat,  affecting 
an  incredulity  he  was  far  from  feeling. 

“ Your  worship’s  adjuration  was  strangely  interrupted,” 
cried  the  old  man,  crossing  himself  devoutly.  “Saint 
Dunstan  and  Saint  Christopher  shield  us  from  evil 
spirits ! ” 

“A  truce  to  your  idle  terrors,  Adam,”  said  Wyat. 
“ Take  these  packets,”  he  added,  giving  him  Henry’s  de- 
spatches, “ and  guard  them  as  you  would  your  life.  I am 
going  on  an  expedition  of  some  peril  to-night,  and  do  not 
choose  to  keep  them  about  me.  Bid  the  grooms  have  my 
steed  in  readiness  an  hour  before  midnight.” 

“ I hope  your  worship  is  not  about  to  ride  into  the 
forest  at  that  hour  ? ” said  Adam,  trembling.  “ I was  told 
by  the  stout  archer,  whom  the  king  dubbed  Duke  of 
Shoreditch,  that  he  and  the  Duke  of  Richmond  ventured 
thither  last  night;  and  that  they  saw  a legion  of  demons 
mounted  on  coal-black  horses,  and  amongst  them  Mark 
Fytton,  the  butcher,  who  was  hanged  a few  days  ago  from 
the  Curfew  Tower  by  the  king’s  orders,  and  whose  body 
so  strangely  disappeared.  Do  not  go  into  the  forest,  dear 
Sir  Thomas!” 

“ No  more  of  this ! ” cried  Wyat,  fiercely.  “ Do  as  I 
bid  you,  and  if  I join  you  not  before  noon  to-morrow,  pro- 
ceed to  Rochester,  and  there  await  my  coming.” 

“ I never  expect  to  see  you  again,  sir ! ” groaned  the  old 
man,  as  he  took  his  leave. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE 


113 


The  anxious  concern  evinced  in  his  behalf  by  his  old 
and  trusty  servant,  was  not  without  effect  on  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat,  and  made  him  hesitate  in  his  design ; but,  by  and 
by,  another  access  of  jealous  rage  came  on,  and  over- 
whelmed all  his  better  resolutions.  He  remained  within 
his  chamber  to  a late  hour,  and  then  issuing  forth,  pro- 
ceeded to  the  terrace  at  the  north  of  the  castle,  where  he 
was  challenged  by  a sentinel,  but  was  suffered  to  pass  on, 
on  giving  the  watchword. 

The  night  was  profoundly  dark,  and  the  whole  of  the 
glorious  prospect  commanded  by  the  terrace  shrouded 
from  view.  But  Wyat’s  object  in  coming  thither  was  to 
gaze,  for  the  last  time,  at  that  part  of  the  castle  which  in- 
closed Anne  Boleyn,  and  knowing  well  the  situation  of 
her  apartments,  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  windows ; but 
though  numerous  lights  streamed  from  the  adjoining  cor- 
ridor, all  here  was  buried  in  obscurity. 

Suddenly,  however,  the  chamber  was  illumined,  and  he 
beheld  Henry  and  Anne  Boleyn  enter  it,  preceded  by  a 
band  of  attendants  bearing  tapers.  It  needed  not  Wyat’s 
jealousy-sharpened  gaze  to  read,  even  at  that  distance, 
the  king’s  enamored  looks,  or  Anne  Boleyn’s  responsive 
glances.  He  saw  that  one  of  Henry’s  arms  encircled  her 
waist,  while  the  other  caressed  her  yielding  hand.  They 
paused.  Henry  bent  forward,  and  Anne  half  averted  her 
head,  but  not  so  much  so  as  to  prevent  the  king  from  im- 
printing a long  and  fervid  kiss  upon  her  lips. 

Terrible  was  its  effect  upon  Wyat.  An  adder’s  bite 
would  have  been  less  painful.  His  hands  convulsively 
clutched  together  ; his  hair  stood  erect  upon  his  head ; a 
shiver  ran  through  his  frame ; and  he  tottered  back  several 
paces.  When  he  recovered,  Henry  had  bidden  good 
night  to  the  object  of  his  love,  and  having  nearly  gained 
the  door,  turned  and  waved  a tender  valediction  to  her. 
As  soon  as  he  was  gone,  Anne  looked  round  with  a smile 


114 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


of  ineffable  pride  and  pleasure  at  her  attendants,  but  a 
cloud  of  curtains  dropping  over  the  window,  shrouded 
her  from  the  sight  of  her  wretched  lover. 

In  a state  of  agitation  wholly  indescribable,  Wyat 
staggered  towards  the  edge  of  the  terrace, — it  might  be 
with  the  design  of  flinging  himself  from  it, — but  when 
within  a few  yards  of  the  low  parapet  wall,  defending  its 
precipitous  side,  he  perceived  a tall  dark  figure  standing 
directly  in  his  path,  and  halted.  Whether  the  object  he 
beheld  was  human  or  not  he  could  not  determine,  but  it 
seemed  of  more  than  mortal  stature.  It  was  wrapped  in 
a long  black  cloak,  and  wore  a high  conical  cap  on  its 
head.  Before  Wyat  could  speak,  the  figure  addressed 
him. 

“ You  desire  to  see  Herne  the  hunter,”  said  the  figure, 
in  a deep,  sepulchral  tone.  “ Ride  hence  to  the  haunted 
beech-tree  near  the  marsh,  at  the  further  side  of  the 
forest,  and  you  will  find  him.” 

“You  are  Herne, — I feel  it,”  cried  Wyat.  “Why  go 
into  the  forest  ? Speak  now.” 

And  he  stepped  forward,  with  the  intention  of  grasp- 
ing the  figure.  But  it  eluded  him,  and,  with  a mocking 
laugh,  melted  into  the  darkness. 

Wyat  advanced  to  the  edge  of  the  terrace,  and  looked 
over  the  parapet,  but  he  could  see  nothing  except  the 
tops  of  the  tall  trees  springing  from  the  side  of  the  moat. 
Flying  to  the  sentinel,  he  inquired  whether  any  one  had 
passed  him,  but  the  man  returned  an  angry  denial. 

Awe-stricken  and  agitated,  Wyat  quitted  the  terrace, 
and  seeking  his  steed,  mounted  him,  and  galloped  into 
the  forest. 

“If  he  I have  seen  be  not  indeed  the  fiend,  he  will 
scarcely  outstrip  me  in  the  race,”  he  cried,  as  his  steed 
bore  him  at  a furious  pace  up  the  long  avenue. 

The  gloom  was  here  profound,  being  increased  by  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


115 


dense  masses  of  foliage  beneath  which  he  was  riding. 
By  the  time,  however,  that  he  reached  the  summit  of 
Snow  Hill,  the  moon  struggled  through  the  clouds,  and 
threw  a wan  glimmer  over  the  leafy  wilderness  around. 
The  deep  slumber  of  the  woods  was  unbroken  by  any 
sound  save  that  of  the  frenzied  rider  bursting  through 
them. 

Well  acquainted  with  the  forest,  Wyat  held  on  a direct 
course.  His  brain  was  on  fire,  and  the  fury  of  his  career 
increased  his  fearful  excitement.  Heedless  of  all  impedi- 
ments, he  pressed  forward — now  dashing  beneath  over- 
hanging boughs  at  the  risk  of  his  neck — now  skirting  the 
edge  of  a glen  where  a false  step  might  have  proved 
fatal. 

On — on  he  went,  his  frenzy  increasing  each  moment. 

At  length,  he  reached  the  woody  height  overlooking 
the  marshy  tract  that  formed  the  limit  of  his  ride.  Once 
more,  the  moon  had  withdrawn  her  luster,  and  a huge 
indistinct  black  mass  alone  pointed  out  the  position  of 
the  haunted  tree.  Around  it  wheeled  a large  white  owl, 
distinguishable  by  its  ghostly  plumage  through  the  gloom, 
like  a sea-bird  in  a storm ; and  hooting  bodinglv  as  it 
winged  its  mystic  flight.  No  other  sound  was  heard, 
nor  living  object  seen. 

While  gazing  into  the  dreary  expanse  beneath  him, 
Wyat,  for  the  first  time  since  starting,  experienced  a sen- 
sation of  doubt  and  dread ; and  the  warning  of  his  old 
and  faithful  attendant  rushed  upon  his  mind.  He  tried 
to  recite  a prayer,  but  the  words  died  away  on  his  lips, — 
neither  would  his  fingers  fashion  the  symbol  of  the  cross- 

But  even  these  admonitions  did  not  restrain  him. 
Springing  from  his  foaming  and  panting  steed,  and  tak- 
ing the  bridle  in  his  hand,  he  descended  the  side  of 
the  acclivity.  Ever  and  anon,  a rustling  among  the  grass 
told  him  that  a snake,  with  which  description  of  reptile 


116 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


the  spot  abounded,  was  gliding  away  from  him.  His 
horse,  which  had  hitherto  been  all  fire  and  impetuosity, 
now  began  to  manifest  symptoms  of  alarm,  quivered  in 
every  limb,  snorted,  and  required  to  be  dragged  along 
forcibly. 

When  within  a few  paces  of  the  tree,  its  enormous 
rifted  trunk  became  fully  revealed  to  him.  But  no  one 
was  beside  it.  Wyatthen  stood  still,  and  cried,  in  aloud, 
commanding  tone — “ Spirit,  I summon  thee  ! — appear  ! ” 

At  these  words,  a sound  like  a peal  of  thunder  rolled 
overhead,  accompanied  by  screeches  of  discordant  laugh- 
ter. Other  strange  and  unearthly  noises  were  heard,  and 
amidst  the  din,  a blue,  phosphoric  light  issued  from  the 
yawning  crevice  in  the  tree,  while  a tall,  gaunt  figure, 
crested  with  an  antlered  helm,  sprang  from  it.  At  the 
same  moment,  a swarm  of  horribly-grotesque,  swart  ob- 
jects, looking  like  imps,  appeared  amid  the  branches  of 
the  tree,  and  grinned  and  gesticulated  , at  Wyat,  whose 
courage  remained  unshaken  during  the  fearful  ordeal. 
Not  so  his  steed.  After  rearing  and  plunging  violently* 
the  affrighted  animal  broke  its  hold,  and  darted  off  into 
the  swamp,  where  it  floundered,  and  was  lost. 

“You  have  called  me,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,”  said  the 
demon,  in  a sepulchral  tone ; “ I am  here.  What  would 
you  ? ” 

“ My  name  being  known  to  you,  spirit  of  darkness,  my 
errand  should  be  also,”  replied  Wyat,  boldly. 

“Your  errand  is  known  tome,”  replied  the  demon. 
“ You  have  lost  a mistress,  and  would  regain  her  ? ” 

“ I would  give  my  soul  to  win  her  back  from  my  kingly 
rival,”  cried  Wyat. 

“I  accept  your  offer,”  rejoined  the  spirit.  “Anne 
Boleyn  shall  be  yours.  Your  hand  upon  the  compact.” 

Wyat  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  grasped  that  of  the 
demon.  His  fingers  were  compressed  as  if  by  a vice,  and 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


117 


he  felt  himself  dragged  towards  the  tree,  while  a stifling 
and  sulphureous  vapor  rose  around  him.  A black  veil 
fell  over  his  head,  and  was  rapidly  twined  around  his 
brow,  in  thick  folds. 

Amid  yells  of  fiendish  laughter,  he  was  then  lifted  from 
the  ground,  thrust  into  the  hollow  of  the  tree,  and  thence, 
as  it  seemed  to  him,  conveyed  into  a deep  subterranean 
cave. 


118 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN  WHAT  MANNER  WOLSEY  PUT  HIS  SCHEME  IN  OPERATION, 

Foiled  in  his  scheme  of  making  Wyat  the  instrument 
of  Anne  Boleyn’s  overthrow,  Wolsey  determined  to  put 
into  immediate  operation  the  plan  he  had  conceived  of 
bringing  forward  a rival  to  her  with  the  king.  If  a choice 
had  been  allowed  him,  he  would  have  selected  some 
high-born  dame  for  the  purpose  ; but  as  this  was  out  of 
the  question — and  as,  indeed,  Henry  had  of  late  proved 
insensible  to  the  attractions  of  all  the  beauties  that 
crowded  his  court  except  Anne  Boleyn — he  trusted  to  the 
forester’s  fair  granddaughter  to  accomplish  his  object. 

The  source  whence  he  had  received  intelligence  of  the 
king’s  admiration  of  Mabel  Lyndwood,  was  his  jester, 
Patch, — a shrewd  varlet  who,  under  the  mask  of  folly, 
picked  up  many  an  important  secret  for  his  master,  and 
was  proportionately  rewarded. 

Before  executing  the  scheme,  it  was  necessary  to  as- 
certain whether  the  damsel’s  beauty  was  as  extraordinary 
as  it  had  been  represented ; and  with  this  view,  Wolsey 
mounted  his  mule  one  morning,  and,  accompanied  by 
Patch  and  another  attendant,  rode  towards  the  forest. 

It  was  a bright  and  beautiful  morning,  and  preoccupied 
as  he  was,  the  plotting  cardinal  could  not  be  wholly  in- 
sensible to  the  loveliness  of  the  scene  around  him.  Cross- 
ing Spring  Hill,  he  paused  at  the  head  of  a long  glade, 
skirted  on  the  right  by  noble  beech-trees,  whose  silver 
stems  sparkled  in  the  sunshine,  and  extending  down  to 
the  thicket,  now  called,  Cooke’s  Hill  Wood.  From  this 
point,  as  from  every  other  eminence  on  the  northern  side 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  119 

of  the  forest,  a magnificent  view  of  the  castle  was  ob- 
tained. 

The  sight  of  the  kingly  pile,  towering  above  its  vassal 
woods,  kindled  high  and  ambitious  thoughts  in  his  breast. 

“ The  lord  of  that  proud  structure  has  been  for  years 
swayed  by  me,”  he  mused,  “ and  shall  the  royal  puppet 
be  at  last  wrested  from  me  by  a woman’s  hand?  Not  if 
I can  hold  my  own.” 

Roused  by  the  reflection,  he  quickened  his  pace,  and 
shaping  his  course  towards  Black  Nest,  reached,  in  a 
short  time,  the  borders  of  a wide  swamp  lying  between 
the  great  lake  and  another  pool  of  water  of  less  extent, 
situated  in  the  heart  of  the  forest.  This  wild  and  dreary 
marsh,  the  haunt  of  the  bittern  and  the  plover,  contrasted 
forcibly  and  disagreeably  with  the  rich  sylvan  district  he 
had  just  quitted. 

“ I should  not  like  to  cross  this  swamp  at  night,”  he 
observed  to  Patch,  who  rode  close  behind  him. 

“Nor  I,  your  grace,”  replied  the  buffoon.  “ We  might 
chance  to  be  led  by  a will-o’-the-wisp  to  a watery  grave.” 

“Such  treacherous  fires  are  not  confined  to  these  re- 
gions, knave,”  rejoined  Wolsey.  “Mankind  are  often 
lured,  by  delusive  gleams  of  glory  and  power,  into  quag- 
mires and  deep  pitfalls.  Holy  Virgin ! what  have  we 
here  ? ” 

The  exclamation  was  occasioned  by  a figure  that  sud- 
denly emerged  from  the  ground,  at  a little  distance  on  the 
right.  Wolsey ’s  mule  swerved  so  much  as  almost  to 
endanger  his  seat,  and  he  calle  d out,  in  a loud  angry  tone, 
to  the  author  of  the  annoyance,  “ Who  are  you,  knave  ? — 
and  what  do  you  here  ? ” 

“ I am  a keeper  of  the  forest,  an’  please  your  grace,” 
replied  the  other,  doffing  his  cap,  and  disclosing  harsh 
features,  which  by  no  means  recommended  him  to  the 
cardinal,  “ and  am  named  Morgan  Fen  wolf . I was  couch- 


120 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


ing  among  the  reeds  to  get  a shot  at  a fat  buck,  when 
your  approach  called  me  to  my  feet.” 

“By  Saint  Jude,  this  is  the  very  fellow,  your  grace, 
who  shot  the  hart-royal,  the  other  day,”  cried  Patch. 

“And  so  preserved  the  Lady  Anne  Boleyn,”  rejoined 
the  cardinal.  “ Art  sure  of  it,  knave  ? ” 

“As  sure  as  your  grace  is  of  canonization,”  replied 
Patch. 

“ That  shot  should  have  brought  you  a rich  reward, 
friend — either  from  the  king’s  highness,  or  the  Lady 
Anne?”  remarked  Wolsey  to  the  keeper. 

“It  has  brought  me  nothing,”  rejoined  Fenwolf, 
sullenly. 

“ Hum ! ” exclaimed  the  cardinal.  “ Give  the  fellow  a 
piece  of  gold,  Patch.” 

“ Methinks,  I should  have  better  earned  your  grace’s 
bounty  if  I had  let  the  hart  work  his  will,”  said  Fenwolf, 
reluctantly  receiving  the  coin. 

“ How,  fellow ! ” cried  the  cardinal,  knitting  his  brows. 

“Nay,  I mean  no  offense,”  replied  Fenwolf;  “but  the 
rumor  goes  that  your  grace  and  the  Lady  Anne  are  not 
well  affected  towards  each  other.” 

“ The  rumor  is  false,”  rejoined  the  cardinal — “ and  you 
can  now  contradict  it  on  your  own  experience.  Harkee, 
sirrah — where  lies  Tristram  Lyndwood’s  hut  ? ” 

Fenwolf  looked  somewhat  surprised  and  confused  by  the 
question. 

“ It  lies  on  the  other  side  of  yonder  rising  ground,  about 
half  a mile  hence,”  he  said.  “ But  if  your  grace  is  seek- 
ing old  Tristram,  you  will  not  find  him.  I parted  with 
him,  half  an  hour  ago,  on  Hawk’s  hill,  and  he  was  then 
on  his  way  to  the  deer-pen  at  Bray  Wood.” 

“ If  I see  his  granddaughter,  Mabel,  it  will  suffice,”  re- 
joined the  cardinal.  “ I am  told  she  is  a comely  damsel. 
Is  it  so  ? ” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  121 

“I  am  but  an  indifferent  judge  of  beauty,”  replied  Fen- 
wolf,  moodily. 

“ Lead  my  mule  across  this  swamp,  thou  senseless  loon,” 
said  the  cardinal,  44  and  I will  give  thee  my  blessing.” 

With  a very  ill  grace,  Fenwolf  complied,  and  conducted 
Wolsey  to  the  further  side  of  the  marsh. 

“ If  your  grace  pursues  the  path  over  the  hill,”  he  said, 
44  and  then  strikes  into  the  first  opening  on  the  right,  it 
will  bring  you  to  the  place  you  seek.” 

And,  without  waiting  for  the  promised  blessing,  he 
disappeared  among  the  trees. 

On  reaching  the  top  of  the  hill,  Wolsey  descried  the 
hut  through  an  opening  in  the  trees,  at  a few  hundred 
yards  distance.  It  was  pleasantly  situated  on  the  brink 
of  the  lake,  at  the  point  where  its  width  was  greatest, 
and  where  it  was  fed  by  a brook  that  flowed  into  it  from 
a large  pool  of  water  near  Sunninghill. 

From  the  high  ground  where  Wolsey  now  stood,  the 
view  of  the  lake  was  beautiful.  For  nearly  a mile  its 
shining  expanse  was  seen  stretching  out  between  banks 
of  varied  form, — sometimes  embayed,  sometimes  running 
out  into  little  headlands,  but  everywhere  clothed  with 
timber  almost  to  the  water’s  edge.  Wild  fowl  skimmed 
over  its  glassy  surface,  or  dipped  in  search  of  their  finny 
prey;  and  here  and  there  a heron  might  be  detected 
standing  in  some  shallow  nook,  and  feasting  on  the 
smaller  fry.  A flight  of  cawing  rooks  were  settling 
upon  the  tall  trees  on  the  right  bank,  and  the  voices  of 
the  thrush,  the  blackbird,  and  other  feathered  songsters, 
burst  in  redundant  melody  from  the  nearer  groves. 

A verdant  path,  partly  beneath  the  trees,  and  partly  on 
the  side  of  the  lake,  led  Wolsey  to  the  forester’s  hut. 
Constructed  of  wood  and  clay,  with  a thatched  roof,  green 
with  moss,  and  half  overgrown  with  ivy,  the  little 
building  was  in  admirable  keeping  with  the  surrounding 


122 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


scenery.  Opposite  the  door,  and  opening  upon  the  lake, 
stood  a little  boat-house,  and  beside  it,  a few  wooden 
steps,  defended  by  a hand-rail,  ran  into  the  water.  A 
few  yards  beyond  the  boat-house,  the  brook  before 
mentioned  emptied  its  waters  into  the  lake. 

Gazing  with  much  internal  satisfaction  at  the  hut, 
Wolsey  bade  Patch  dismount,  and  ascertain  whether 
Mabel  was  within.  The  buffoon  obeyed,  tried  the  door,  and? 
finding  it  fastened,  knocked,  but  to  no  purpose. 

After  a pause  of  a few  minutes,  the  cardinal  was  turn- 
ing away  in  extreme  disappointment,  when  a small  skiff, 
rowed  by  a female  hand,  shot  round  an  angle  of  the  lake, 
and  swiftly  approached  them.  A glance  from  Patch 
would  have  told  Wolsey,  if  he  had  required  any  such  in- 
formation, that  this  was  the  forester’s  granddaughter. 
Her  beauty  quite  ravished  him,  and  drew  from  him  an 
exclamation  of  wonder  and  delight.  Features  regular,  ex- 
quisitely molded,  and  of  a joyous  expression;  a skin 
dyed  like  a peach  by  the  sun,  but  so  as  to  improve  rather 
than  impair  its  hue ; eyes  bright,  laughing,  and  blue  as  a 
summer  sky ; ripe,  ruddy  lips,  and  pearly  teeth ; and  hair 
of  a light  and  glossy  brown,  constituted  the  sum  of  her 
attractions.  Her  sylph-like  figure  was  charmingly  dis- 
played by  the  graceful  exercise  on  which  she  was  en- 
gaged, and  her  small  hands,  seemingly  scarcely  able  to 
grasp  an  oar,  impelled  the  skiff  forward  with  marvelous 
velocity,  and  apparently  without  much  exertion  on  her 
part. 

Unabashed  by  the  presence  of  the  strangers,  though 
Wolsey ’s  attire  could  leave  her  in  no  doubt  as  to  his  high 
ecclesiastical  dignity,  she  sprang  ashore  at  the  landing- 
place,  and  fastened  her  bark  to  the  side  of  the  boat- 
house. 

“ You  are  Mabel  Lyndwood,  I presume,  fair  maiden?” 
inquired  the  cardinal,  in  his  blandest  tones. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


123 


“ Such  is  my  name,  your  grace,”  she  replied;  “for 
your  garb  tells  me  I am  addressing  Cardinal  Wolsey.” 

The  cardinal  graciously  inclined  his  head. 

“ Chancing  to  ride  in  this  part  of  the  forest,”  he  said, 
“ and  having  heard  of  your  beauty,  I came  to  see  whether 
the  reality  equaled  the  description,  and  I find  it  far 
transcends  it.” 

Mabel  blushed  deeply,  and  cast  down  her  eyes. 

“ Would  that  Henry  could  see  her  now ! ” thought  the 
cardinal,  “ Anne  Boleyn’s  reign  were  nigh  an  end.  How 
long  have  you  dwelt  in  this  cottage,  fair  maid  ? ” he  added, 
aloud. 

“ My  grandsire,  Tristram  Lyndwood,  has  lived  here 
fifty  years  and  more,”  replied  Mabel ; “ but  I have  only 
been  its  inmate  within  these  few  weeks.  Before  that 
time,  I lived  at  Chertsey,  under  the  care  of  one  of  the  lay 
sisters  of  the  monastery  there — sister  Anastasia.” 

“ And  your  parents — where  are  they  ? ” asked  the  car- 
dinal, curiously. 

“ Alas ! your  grace,  I have  none,”  replied  Mabel,  with 
a sigh.  “ Tristram  Lyndwood  is  my  only  living  relative. 
He  used  to  come  over  once  a month  to  see  me  at  Chertsey 
— and  latterly,  finding  his  dwelling  lonely,  for  he  lost  the 
old  dame  who  tended  it  for  him,  he  brought  me  to  dwell 
with  him.  Sister  Anastasia  was  loath  to  part  with  me — • 
and  I was  grieved  to  leave  her — but  I could  not  refuse  my 
grandsire.” 

“ Of  a surety  not,”  replied  the  cardinal,  musingly,  and 
gazing  hard  at  her.  “ And  you  know  nothing  of  your 
parents  ? ” 

“ Little,  beyond  this,”  replied  Mabel : — “ My  father  was 
a keeper  of  the  forest,  and  being  unhappily  gored  by  a 
stag,  perished  of  the  wound — for  a hurt  from  a hart’s 
horn,  as  your  grace  knows,  is  certain  death — and  my 
mother  pined  after  him,  and  speedily  followed  him  to  the 


124 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


grave.  I was  then  placed  by  my  grandsire  with  sister 
Anastasia,  as  I have  just  related — and  this  is  all  my 
history.” 

“ A simple,  yet  a curious  one,”  said  Wolsey,  still 
musing.  “You  are  the  fairest  maid  of  low  degree  I 
ever  beheld.  You  saw  the  king  at  the  chase  the  other 
day,  Mabel  ? ” 

“ Truly,  did  I,  your  grace,”  she  replied,  her  eyes 
brightening,  and  her  color  rising — “and  a right  noble 
king  he  is.” 

“ And  as  gentle  and  winning  as  he  is  goodly  to  look 
upon,”  said  Wolsey,  smiling. 

“ Report  says  otherwise,”  rejoined  Mabel. 

“ Report  speaks  falsely,”  cried  Wolsey;  “I  know  him 
well — and  he  is  what  I describe  him.” 

“ I am  glad  to  hear  it,”  replied  Mabel ; “ and  I must  own 
I formed  the  same  opinion  myself — for  the  smile  he  threw 
upon  me  was  one  of  the  sweetest  and  kindliest  I ever 
beheld.” 

“Since  you  confess  so  much,  fair  maiden,”  rejoined 
Wolsey,  “I  will  be  equally  frank,  and  tell  you  it  was 
from  the  king’s  own  lips  I heard  of  your  beauty.” 

“ Your  grace  ! ” she  exclaimed. 

“Well,  well,”  said  Wolsey,  smiling;  “if  the  king  is 
bewitched,  I cannot  marvel  at  it.  And  now,  good  day, 
fair  maiden.  You  will  hear  more  of  me.” 

“ Your  grace  will  not  refuse  me  your  blessing  ? ” said 
Mabel. 

“Assuredly  not,  my  child,”  replied  Wolsey,  spreading 
his  hands  over  her.  “ All  good  angels  and  saints  bless 
you,  and  hold  you  in  their  keeping.  Mark  my  words — a 
great  destiny  awaits  you.  But  in  all  changes,  rest  as- 
sured you  will  find  a friend  in  Cardinal  Wolsey.” 

“ Your  grace  overwhelms  me  with  kindness,”  cried 
Mabel,  “ nor  can  I conceive  how  I have  found  an  interest 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  125 

in  your  eyes — unless  sister  Anastasia,  or  father  Anselm, 
of  Chertsey  Abbey,  may  have  mentioned  me  to  you.” 

“ You  have  found  a more  potent  advocate  with  me  than 
either  sister  Anastasia  or  father  Anselm,”  replied  Wolsey; 
“ and  now,  farewell.” 

And  turning  the  head  of  his  mule,  he  rode  slowly 
away. 

On  the  same  day,  there  was  a grand  banquet  in  the 
castle,  and,  as  usual,  Wolsey  took  his  station  on  the  right 
of  the  sovereign,  while  the  papal  legate  occupied  a place 
on  the  left.  Watching  a favorable  opportunity,  Wolsey 
observed  to  Henry,  that  he  had  been  riding  that  morning 
in  the  forest,  and  had  seen  the  loveliest  damsel  that  eyes 
ever  fell  upon. 

“ Ah ! by  our  Lady ! and  who  may  she  be  ? ” asked  the 
king,  curiously. 

“ She  can  boast  little  in  regard  to  birth,  being  grand- 
child to  an  old  forester,”  replied  Wolsey.  “But  your 
majesty  saw  her  at  the  hunting-party  the  other  day.” 

“Ah,  now  I bethink  me  of  her,”  said  Henry.  “A 
comely  damsel,  in  good  sooth.” 

“ I know  not  where  her  match  is  to  be  found,”  cried 
the  cardinal.  “Would  your  majesty  had  seen  her  skim 
over  the  lake  in  a fairy  boat  managed  by  herself,  as  I be- 
held her  this  morning.  You  would  have  taken  her  for  a 
water-sprite,  except  that  no  water-sprite  was  half  so 
beautiful.” 

“ You  speak  in  raptures,  cardinal,”  cried  Henry.  “ I 
must  see  this  damsel  again.  Where  does  she  dwell  ? I 
have  heard, — but  it  has  slipped  my  memory.” 

“ In  a hut  near  the  great  lake,”  replied  W olsey . “ There 

is  some  mystery  attached  to  her  birth,  which  I have  not 
yet  fathomed.” 

“Leave  me  to  unriddle  it,”  replied  the  king,  laugh- 
ingly. 


126 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


And  he  turned  to  talk  on  other  subjects  to  Campeggio, 
but  Wolsey  felt  satisfied  that  the  device  was  successful. 

Nor  was  he  mistaken.  As  Henry  retired  from  the  ban- 
quet, he  motioned  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  towards  him,  and 
said,  in  an  undertone — 

“ I shall  go  forth  at  dusk  to-morrow  even,  in  disguise, 
and  shall  require  your  attendance.” 

“ On  a love  affair  ? ” asked  the  duke,  in  the  same  tone. 

“ Perchance,”  replied  Henry  ; “ but  I will  explain  my- 
self more  fully  anon.” 

This  muttered  colloquy  was  overheard  by  Patch,  and 
faithfully  reported  by  him  to  the  cardinal. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


127 


CHAPTER  III. 

OF  THE  VISIT  OF  THE  TWO  GUILDFORD  MERCHANTS  TO  THE 

forester’s  HUT. 

Tristram  Lyndwood  did  not  return  home  till  late  in 
the  evening ; and  when  informed  of  the  cardinal’s  visit, 
he  shook  his  head  gravely. 

46 1 am  sorry  we  went  to  the  hunting-party,”  he  ob- 
served. 44  Valentine  Hagthorne  said  mischief  would  come 
of  it,  and  I wish  I had  attended  to  his  advice.” 

44 1 see  no  mischief  in  the  matter,  grandsire,”  cried 
Mabel,  44  On  the  contrary,  I think  I have  met  with  ex- 
cellent fortune.  The  good  cardinal  promises  me  a high 
destiny,  and  says  the  king  himself  noticed  me.” 

44  Would  his  regards  had  fallen  anywhere  else  than  on 
you,  child,”  rejoined  Tristram.  44  But  I warrant  me,  you 
told  the  cardinal  your  history — all  you  know  of  it,  at 
least.” 

44 1 did  so,”  she  replied — 44  nor  did  I know  I was  doing 
any  harm.” 

44  Answer  no  such  inquiries  in  future,”  said  Tristram, 
angrily. 

44  But,  grandfather,  I could  not  refuse  to  answer  the  car- 
dinal,” she  replied,  in  a deprecating  voice. 

44  No  more  excuses,  but  attend  to  my  injunctions,”  said 
Tristram.  44  Have  you  seen  Morgan  Fenwolf  to-day  ? ” 

44  No  ; and  I care  not  if  I never  see  him  again,”  she  re- 
plied, pettishly. 

44  You  dislike  him  strangely,  Mab,”  rejoined  her  grand- 
father,— 44  he  is  the  best  keeper  in  the  forest,  and  makes 
no  secret  of  his  love  for  you.” 

44  The  very  reason  why  I dislike  him,”  she  returned. 


128 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ By  the  same  rule,  if  what  the  cardinal  stated  be  true, 
— though,  trust  me,  he  was  but  jesting, — you  ought  to 
dislike  the  king.  But  get  me  my  supper.  I have  need 
of  it,  for  I have  fasted  long.” 

Mabel  hastened  to  obey,  and  set  a mess  of  hot  pottage 
and  other  viands  before  him.  Little  more  conversation 
passed  between  them,  for  the  old  man  was  weary,  and 
sought  his  couch  early. 

That  night,  Mabel  did  nothing  but  dream  of  the  king 
— of  stately  chambers,  rich  apparel,  and  countless  atten- 
dants. She  awoke,  and  finding  herself  in  a lowly  cottage, 
and  without  a single  attendant,  was,  like  other  dreamers 
of  imaginary  splendor,  greatly  discontented. 

The  next  morning,  her  grandsire  went  again  to  Bray 
Wood,  and  she  was  left  to  muse  upon  the  event  of  the 
previous  day.  While  busied  about  some  trifling  occupa- 
tions, the  door  suddenly  opened,  and  Morgan  Fenwolf  en- 
tered the  cottage.  He  was  followed  by  a tall  man,  with 
a countenance  of  extreme  paleness,  but  a noble  and  com- 
manding figure.  There  was  something  so  striking  in  the 
appearance  of  the  latter  person,  that  it  riveted  the  atten- 
tion of  Mabel.  But  no  corresponding  effect  was  produced 
on  the  stranger,  for  he  scarcely  bestowed  a look  upon  her. 

Morgan  Fenwolf  hastily  asked  whether  her  grandsire 
was  at  home,  or  near  at  hand,  and  being  answered  in  the 
negative,  appeared  much  disappointed.  He  then  said 
that  he  must  borrow  the  skiff  for  a short  while,  as  he 
wished  to  visit  some  nets  on  the  lake.  Mabel  readily  as- 
sented, and  the  stranger  quitted  the  house,  while  Fenwolf 
lingered  to  offer  some  attention  to  Mabel,  which  was  so 
ill  received  that  he  was  fain  to  hurry  forth  to  the  boat- 
house, where  he  embarked  with  his  companion.  As  soon 
as  the  plash  of  oars  announced  their  departure,  Mabel 
went  forth  to  watch  them.  The  stranger,  who  was  seated 
in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  for  the  first  time,  fixed  his  large 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  129 

melancholy  eyes  full  upon  her,  and  did  not  withdraw  his 
gaze  till  an  angle  of  the  lake  hid  him  from  view. 

Marveling  who  he  could  be,  and  reproaching  herself 
for  not  questioning  Fen  wolf  on  the  subject,  Mabel  resolved 
to  repair  the  error  when  the  skiff  was  brought  back. 
But  the  opportunity  did  not  speedily  occur.  Hours  flew 
by ; the  shades  of  evening  drew  on ; but  neither  Fenwolf 
nor  the  stranger  returned. 

Soon  after  dusk,  her  grandfather  came  home.  He  did 
not  express  the  least  astonishment  at  Fenwolf  s prolonged 
absence,  but  said  he  was  sure  to  be  back  in  the  course  of 
the  evening,  and  the  skiff  was  not  wanted. 

“ He  will  bring  us  a fine  jack,  or  a carp  for  dinner  to- 
morrow, I’ll  warrant  me,”  he  said.  “ If  he  had  returned 
in  time,  we  might  have  had  fish  for  supper.  No  matter. 
I must  make  shift  with  the  mutton  pie  and  a rasher  of 
bacon.  Morgan  did  not  mention  the  name  of  his  com- 
panion, you  say  ? ” 

“ He  did  not,”  replied  Mabel ; “ but  I hope  he  will  bring 
him  with  him.  He  is  the  goodliest  gentleman  I ever 
beheld.” 

“ What ! a goodlier  gentleman  than  the  king  ? ” cried 
Tristram. 

“ Nay,  they  should  not  be  compared,”  replied  Mabel : 
“ the  one  is  stout  and  burly  ; the  other,  slight,  long-vis- 
aged, and  pale,  but  handsome  withal, — very  handsome.” 

“ Well,  I dare  say  I shall  see  him  anon,”  said  Tristram ; 
“and  now  for  supper,  for  I am  as  sharp-set  as  a wolf ; — 
and  so  is  old  Hubert,”  he  added,  glancing  affectionately  at 
the  hound  by  which  he  was  attended. 

Mabel  placed  the  better  part  of  a huge  pie  before  him, 
which  the  old  forester  attacked  with  great  zeal.  He  then 
fell  to  work  upon  some  slices  of  bacon  toasted  over  the 
embers,  by  his  granddaughter,  and  having  washed  them 
down  with  a jug  of  mead,  declared  he  had  supped 


130 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


famously.  While  taking  care  of  himself,  he  did  not  for 
get  his  hound.  From  time  to  time,  he  threw  him  morsels 
of  the  pie,  and  when  he  had  done,  he  gave  him  a large  plat- 
ter-full of  bones. 

“Old  Hubert  has  served  me  faithfully  nigh  twenty 
years,”  he  said,  patting  the  hound’s  shaggy  neck,  “ and 
must  not  be  neglected.” 

Throwing  a log  of  wood  on  the  fire,  he  drew  his  chair 
into  the  ingle-nook,  and  disposed  himself  to  slumber. 
Meanwhile,  Mabel  busied  herself  about  her  household 
concerns,  and  was  singing  a lulling  melody  to  her  grand- 
father, in  a voice  of  exquisite  sweetness,  when  a loud  tap 
was  heard  at  the  door.  Tristram  roused  himself  from 
his  doze,  and  old  Hubert  growled  menacingly. 

“ Quiet,  Hubert — quiet ! ” cried  Tristram.  “ It  cannot 
be  Morgan  Fen  wolf,”  he  added.  “ He  would  never  knock 
thus.  Come  in,  friend,  whoever  thou  art.” 

At  this  invitation,  two  persons  darkened  the  doorway. 
The  foremost  was  a man  of  bulky  frame,  and  burly  de- 
meanor. He  was  attired  in  a buff  jerkin,  over  which  he 
wore  a loose  brown  surcoat ; had  a fiat  velvet  cap  on  his 
head ; and  carried  a stout  staff  in  his  hand.  His  face 
was  broad  and  handsome,  though  his  features  could 
scarcely  be  discerned  in  the  doubtful  light  to  which  they 
were  submitted.  A red  dish- colored  beard  clothed  his 
chin.  His  companion,  who  appeared  a trifle  the  taller  of 
the  two,  and  equally  robust,  was  wrapped  in  a cloak  of 
dark  green  camlet. 

“ Give  you  good  e’en,  friend,”  said  the  foremost  stranger 
to  the  forester.  “We  are  belated  travelers,  on  our  way 
from  Guildford  to  Windsor,  and,  seeing  your  cottage, 
have  called  to  obtain  some  refreshment  before  we  cross 
the  great  park.  We  do  not  ask  you  to  bestow  a meal 
upon  us,  but  will  gladly  pay  for  the  best  your  larder 
affords,” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


131 


“You  shall  have  it,  and  welcome,  my  masters,”  replied 
Tristram  ; “ but  I am  afraid  my  humble  fare  will  scarcely 
suit  you.” 

“ Pear  nothing,”  replied  the  other ; “ we  have  good  ap- 
petites, and  are  not  over  dainty.  Beshrew  me,  friend,” 
he  added,  regarding  Mabel,  “ you  have  a comely  daugh- 
ter.” 

“ She  is  my  granddaughter,  sir,”  replied  Tristram. 

“Well,  your  granddaughter,  then,”  said  the  other; 
“by  the  mass,  a lovely  wench.  We  have  none  such  in 
Guildford,  and  I doubt  if  the  king  hath  such  in  Windsor 
Castle.  What  say  you,  Charles  Brandon  ? ” 

“ It  were  treason  to  agree  with  you,  Harry  Le  Roy,” 
replied  Brandon,  laughing ; “ for  they  say  the  king  visits 
with  the  halter  all  those  who  disparage  the  charms  of 
the  lady  Anne  Boleyn.  But  comparisons  apart,  this 
damsel  is  very  fair.” 

“You  will  discompose  her,  my  masters,  if  you  praise 
her  thus  to  her  face,”  said  Tristram,  somewhat  testily. 
“ Here,  Mab,  bring  forth  all  my  scanty  larder  affords,  and 
put  some  rashers  of  bacon  on  the  fire.” 

“ Cold  meat  and  bread  will  suffice  for  us,”  said  Harry ; 
“ we  will  not  trouble  the  damsel  to  play  the  cook.” 

With  this,  Mabel,  who  appeared  a good  deal  embar- 
rassed by  the  presence  of  the  strangers,  spread  a cloth  of 
snow-white  linen  on  the  little  table,  and  placed  the  re- 
mains of  the  pie  and  a large  oven  cake  before  them.  The 
newcomers  sate  down,  and  ate  heartily  of  the  humble 
viands, — he  who  had  answered  to  the  name  of  Harry  fre- 
quently stopping,  in  the  course  of  his  repast,  to  compli- 
ment his  fair  attendant. 

“ By  our  Lady,  I have  never  been  so  waited  on  before,” 
he  added,  rising,  and  removing  his  stool  towards  the  fire, 
while  his  companion  took  up  a position,  with  his  back 
against  the  wall,  near  the  fireplace.  “And  now,  my 


132 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


pretty  Mabel,  have  you  never  a cup  of  ale  to  wash  down 
the  pie  ? ” 

“ I can  offer  you  a draught  of  right  good  mead,  master,” 
said  Tristram ; “ and  that  is  the  only  liquor  my  cottage 
can  furnish.” 

“ Nothing  can  be  better,”  replied  Harry.  “ The  mead, 
by  all  means.” 

While  Mabel  went  to  draw  the  liquor,  Tristram  fixed 
his  eyes  on  Harry,  whose  features  were  now  fully  revealed 
by  the  light  of  the  fire. 

“ Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  hard,  friend  ? ” demanded 
Harry  bluffly. 

“ I have  seen  some  one  very  like  you,  master,”  replied 
Tristram;  “and  one  whom  it  is  no  light  honor  to  re- 
semble.” 

“ You  mean  the  king,”  returned  Harry,  laughing.  “ You 
are  not  the  first  person  who  has  thought  me  like  him.” 

“ You  are  vain  of  the  likeness,  I see,  master,”  replied 
Tristram,  joining  in  the  laugh.  “How  say  you,  Mab?” 
he  added  to  his  granddaughter,  who  at  that  moment 
returned  with  a jug  and  a couple  of  drinking-horns. 
“ Whom  does  this  gentleman  resemble  ? ” 

“No  one,”  returned  Mabel,  without  raising  her  eyes. 

“No  one  ! ” echoed  Harry,  chucking  her  under  the 
chin.  “ Look  me  full  in  the  face,  and  you  will  find  out 
your  mistake.  Marry,  if  I were  the  royal  Henry,  instead 
of  what  I am,  a plain  Guildford  merchant,  I should  prefer 
you  to  Anne  Boleyn.” 

“ Is  that  said  in  good  sooth,  sir  ? ” asked  Mabel,  slightly 
raising  her  eyes,  and  instantly  dropping  them  before  the 
ardent  gaze  of  the  self-styled  merchant. 

“ In  good  sooth  and  sober  truth,”  replied  Harry,  round- 
ing his  arm,  and  placing  his  hand  on  his  lusty  thigh,  in 
true  royal  fashion. 

“ Were  you  the  royal  Henry,  I should  not  care  for  your 


“ If  I were  the  royal  Henry,  instead  of  a plain  Guilford  merchant, 
I should  prefer  you  to  Anne  Boleyn  ! ” said  the  stranger.  Page  132. 

Windsor  Castle 


* IBRARY 
OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


133 


preference,”  said  Mabel,  more  confidently.  “My  grand- 
sire  says  the  king  changes  his  love  as  often  as  the  moon 
changes — nay,  oftener.” 

“ God’s  death ! — your  grandsire  is  a false  knave  to  say 
so ! ” cried  Harry. 

“ Heaven  help  us ! you  swear  the  king’s  oaths,”  said 
Mabel. 

“ And  wherefore  not,  sweetheart  ? ” said  Harry,  check- 
ing himself.  “ It  is  enough  to  make  one  swear,  and  in 
royal  fashion,  too,  to  hear  one’s  liege  lord  unjustly  ac- 
cused. I have  ever  heard  the  king  styled  a mirror  of 
constancy.  How  say  you,  Charles  Brandon  ? — can  you 
not  give  him  a good  character  ? ” 

“ Oh  ! an  excellent  character,”  said  Brandon.  “ He  is 
constancy  itself — while  the  fit  lasts,”  he  added,  aside. 

“ You  hear  what  my  friend  says,  sweetheart,”  observed 
Harry,  “ and  I assure  you  he  has  the  best  opportunities 
of  judging.  But  I’ll  be  sworn  you  did  not  believe  your 
grandsire  when  he  thus  maligned  the  king.” 

“ She  contradicted  me  flatly,”  said  Tristram ; “ but 
pour  out  the  mead,  girl.  Our  guests  are  waiting  for  it.” 

While  Mabel,  in  compliance  with  her  grandsire’s  direc- 
tions, filled  the  horn,  the  door  of  the  cottage  was  noise- 
lessly opened  by  Morgan  Fenwolf,  who  stepped  in, 
followed  by  Bawsey.  He  stared  inquisitively  at  the 
strangers,  but  both  were  so  much  occupied  by  the  damsel 
that  he  remained  unnoticed.  A sign  from  the  old  forester 
told  him  he  had  better  retire.  Jealous  curiosity,  how- 
ever, detained  him;  and  he  tarried  till  Harry  had  re- 
ceived the  cup  from  Mabel,  and  drained  it  to  her  health. 
He  then  drew  back,  closed  the  door  softly,  and  joined  a 
dark  and  mysterious  figure,  with  hideous  lineaments  and 
an  antlered  helm  upon  its  brows,  lurking  outside  the 
cottage. 

Meanwhile,  a cup  of  mead  having  been  offered  to  Bran- 


134 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


don,  he  observed  to  his  companion,  “We  must  now  be 
setting  forth  on  our  journey.  Night  is  advancing,  and 
we  have  five  long  miles  to  traverse  across  the  Great 
Park.” 

“ I would  stay  where  I am,”  rejoined  Harry,  “ and 
make  a bench  near  the  fire  serve  me  in  lieu  of  a couch, 
but  that  business  requires  our  presence  at  the  castle  to- 
night. There  is  payment  for  our  meal,  friend,”  he  added, 
giving  a mark  to  Tristram,  “ and  as  we  shall  probably 
return  to-morrow  night,  we  will  call  and  have  another 
supper  with  you.  Provide  us  a capon,  and  some  fish 
from  the  lake.” 

“ You  pay  as  you  swear,  good  sir,  royally,”  replied 
Tristram.  “You  shall  have  abetter  supper  to-morrow 
night.” 

“ You  have  a dangerous  journey  before  you,  sir,”  said 
Mabel.  “ They  say  there  are  plunderers  and  evil  spirits 
in  the  Great  Park.” 

“ I have  no  fear  of  any  such,  sweetheart,”  replied 
Harry ; “ I have  a strong  arm  to  defend  myself,  and  so 
has  my  friend  Charles  Brandon.  And  as  to  evil  spirits, 
a kiss  from  you  will  shield  me  from  all  ill.” 

And  as  he  spoke,  he  drew  her  towards  him,  and,  clasp- 
ing her  in  his  arms,  imprinted  a score  of  rapid  kisses  on 
her  lips. 

“ Hold ! hold,  master ! ” cried  Tristram,  rising  angrily ; 
“ this  may  not  be.  ’Tis  an  arrant  abuse  of  hospitality.” 

“ Nay,  be  not  offended,  good  friend,”  replied  Harry, 
laughing,  “ I am  on  the  look-out  for  a wife,  and  I know 
not  but  I may  take  your  granddaughter  with  me  to 
Guildford.” 

“ She  is  not  to  be  so  lightly  won,”  cried  Tristram, 
“ for  though  I am  but  a poor  forester,  I rate  her  as 
highly  as  the  haughtiest  noble  can  rate  his  child.” 

“ And  with  reason,”  said  Harry.  “ Good-night,  sweet- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


135 


heart ! ” “ By  my  crown ! Suffolk,”  he  exclaimed  to  liis 
companion,  as  he  quitted  the  cottage,  “ she  is  an  angel, 
and  shall  be  mine.” 

“ Not  if  my  arm  serves  me  truly,”  muttered  Fenwolf, 
who,  with  his  mysterious  companion,  had  stationed  him- 
self at  the  window  of  the  hut. 

“ Do  him  no  injury,”  returned  the  other ; “ he  is  only 
to  be  made  captive — mark  that.  And  now  to  apprise  Sir 
Thomas  Wyat.  We  must  intercept  them  before  they 
reach  their  horses.” 


136 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  HERNE  THE  HUNTER  SHOWED  THE  EARL  OF  SURREY 
THE  FAIR  GERALDINE  IN  A VISION. 

On  the  third  day  after  Surrey’s  imprisonment  in  the 
keep,  he  was  removed  to  the  Norman  Tower.  The 
chamber  allotted  him  was  square,  tolerably  lofty,  and  had 
two  narrow  pointed  windows,  on  either  side,  looking  on 
the  one  hand  into  the  upper  quadrangle,  and  on  the  other 
into  the  middle  ward.  At  the  same  time,  permission 
was  accorded  him  to  take  exercise  on  the  battlements  of 
the  Round  Tower,  or  within  the  dry  and  grassy  moat  at 
its  foot. 

The  fair  Geraldine,  he  was  informed,  had  been  sent  to 
the  royal  palace  at  Greenwich  ; but  her  absence  occasioned 
him  little  disquietude,  because  he  knew,  if  she  had  re- 
mained at  Windsor,  he  would  not  have  been  allowed  to 
see  her. 

On  the  same  day  that  Surrey  was  removed  to  the 
Norman  Tower,  the  Duke  of  Richmond  quitted  the  castle 
without  assigning  any  motive  for  his  departure,  or  even 
taking  leave  of  his  friend.  At  first,  some  jealous  mistrust 
that  he  might  be  gone  to  renew  his  suit  to  the  fair 
Geraldine  troubled  the  earl ; but  he  strongly  combated 
the  feeling,  as  calculated,  if  indulged,  to  destroy  his  tran- 
quillity, and  by  fixing  his  thoughts  sedulously  on  other 
subjects,  he  speedily  succeeded  in  overcoming  it. 

On  that  night,  while  occupied  in  a translation  of  the 
-Eneid,  which  he  had  commenced,  he  remained  at  his 
task  to  a late  hour.  The  midnight  bell  had  tolled,  when, 
looking  up,  he  was  startled  by  perceiving  a tall  dark 
figure  standing  silent  and  motionless  beside  him. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


137 


Independently  of  the  difficulty  of  accounting  for  its 
presence  the  appearance  of  the  figure  was,  in  itself,  suffi- 
ciently appalling.  It  was  above  the  ordinary  stature,  and 
was  enveloped  in  a long  black  cloak,  while  a tall,  conical 
black  cap,  which  added  to  its  height,  and  increased  the 
hideousness  of  its  features,  covered  its  head. 

For  a few  minutes,  Surrey  remained  gazing  at  the 
' figure  in  mute  astonishment,  during  which  it  maintained 
the  same  motionless  posture.  At  length,  he  was  able  to 
murmur  forth  the  interrogation — “ Who  art  thou  ? ” 

44  A friend,”  replied  the  figure,  in  a sepulchral  tone. 

“ Are  you  man  or  spirit  ? ” demanded  Surrey. 

“ It  matters  not, — I am  a friend,”  rejoined  the  figure. 

44  On  what  errand  come  you  here  ? ” asked  Surrey. 

“ To  serve  you,”  replied  the  figure ; — 44  to  liberate  you. 
You  shall  go  hence  with  me  if  you  choose.” 

44  On  what  condition.?  ” rejoined  Surrey. 

“We  will  speak  of  that  when  we  are  out  of  the  castle, 
and  on  the  green  sod  of  the  forest,”  returned  the  figure. 

44  You  tempt  in  vain,”  cried  Surrey.  “ I will  not  go 
with  you.  I recognize  in  you  the  demon  hunter  Herne.” 

The  figure  laughed  hollowly — so  hollowly,  that  Surrey’s 
flesh  crept  upon  his  bones. 

“ You  are  right,  lord  of  Surrey,”  he  said  ; “ I am  Herne 
the  hunter.  You  must  join  me.  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  is 
already  one  of  my  band.” 

44  You  lie,  false  fiend ! ” rejoined  Surrey.  44  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat  is  in  France.” 

46  It  is  you  who  lie,  lord  of  Surrey,”  replied  Herne ; 
44  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  is  now  in  the  Great  Park.  You  shall 
see  him  in  a few  minutes,  if  you  will  come  with  me.” 

44 1 disbelieve  you,  tempter  ! ” cried  Surrey,  indignantly. 
44  Wyat  is  too  good  a Christian,  and  too  worthy  a knight 
to  league  with  a demon.” 

Again  Herne  laughed  bitterly. 


138 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Sir  Thomas  Wyat  told  you  he  would  seek  me  out,” 
said  the  demon.  “ He  did  so,  and  gave  himself  to  me, 
for  Anne  Boleyn.” 

“But  you  have  no  power  over  her,  demon?”  cried 
Surrey,  shuddering. 

66  You  will  learn  whether  I have  or  not,  in  due  time,” 
replied  Herne.  “ Do  you  refuse  to  go  with  me  ? ” 

“ I refuse  to  deliver  myself  to  perdition,”  rejoined  the 
earl. 

“ An  idle  fear,”  rejoined  Herne.  “ I care  not  for  your 
soul — you  will  destroy  it  without  my  aid.  I have  need 
of  you.  You  shall  be  back  again  in  this  chamber  before 
the  officer  visits  it  in  the  morning,  and  no  one  shall  be 
aware  of  your  absence.  Come,  or  I will  bear  you  hence.” 

“ You  dare  not  touch  me,”  replied  Surrey,  placing  his 
hand  upon  his  breast ; “ I am  armed  with  a holy  relic.” 

“ I know  it,”  said  Herne ; “ and  I feel  its  power,  or  I 
would  not  have  trifled  with  you  thus  long.  But  it  cannot 
shield  you  from  a rival.  You  believe  the  fair  Geraldine 
constant — ha  ? ” 

“ I know  her  to  be  so,”  said  Surrey. 

A derisive  laugh  broke  from  Herne. 

“ Peace,  mocking  fiend  ! ” cried  Surrey,  furiously. 

“ I laugh  to  think  how  you  are  deceived,”  said  Herne. 
“ Would  you  behold  your  mistress  now? — would  you  see 
how  she  conducts  herself  during  your  absence  ? ” 

“ If  you  choose  to  try  me,  I will  not  oppose  the  at- 
tempt,” replied  Surrey,  “ but  it  will  be  futile.” 

“Remove  the  relic  from  your  person,”  rejoined  Herne. 
“ Place  it  upon  the  table,  within  your  grasp,  and  you  shall 
see  her.” 

Surrey  hesitated  ; but  he  was  not  proof  against  the  low 
mocking  laugh  of  the  demon. 

“ No  harm  can  result  from  it,”  he  cried,  at  length,  de- 
taching the  relic  from  his  neck,  and  laying  it  on  the  table. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  139 

“ Extinguish  the  light ! ” cried  Herne,  in  a commanding 
voice. 

Surrey  instantly  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  dashed  the 
lamp  off  the  table. 

44  Behold ! ” cried  the  demon. 

And  instantly  a vision,  representing  the  form  and 
lineaments  of  the  fair  Geraldine  to  the  life,  shone  forth 
against  the  opposite  wall  of  the  chamber.  At  the  feet  of 
the  visionary  damsel  knelt  a shape  resembling  the  Duke 
of  Richmond.  He  was  pressing  the  hand  extended  to 
him  by  the  fair  Geraldine  to  his  lips,  and  a smile  of 
triumph  irradiated  his  features. 

44  Such  is  man’s  friendship — such  woman’s  constancy  ! ” 
cried  Herne.  44  Are  you  not  satisfied  ? ” 

44 1 am,  that  you  have  deceived  me,  false  spirit ! ” cried 
the  earl.  44 1 would  not  believe  the  fair  Geraldine  incon- 
stant, though  all  hell  told  me  so.” 

A terrible  laugh  broke  from  the  demon,  and  the  vision 
faded  away.  All  became  perfect  darkness,  and  for  a few 
moments  the  earl  remained  silent.  He  then  called  to  the 
demon,  but  receiving  no  answer,  put  forth  his  hand 
towards  the  spot  where  he  had  stood.  He  was  gone. 

Confounded,  Surrey  returned  to  the  table,  and  searched 
for  the  relic,  but,  with  a feeling  of  indescribable  anguish 
and  self-reproach,  found  that  it  had  likewise  disappeared. 


140 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WHAT  BEFELL  SIR  THOMAS  WYAT  IN  THE  SANDSTONE  CAVE. 

AND  HOW  HE  DRANK  A MADDENING  POTION. 

The  cave  in  which  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  found  himself, 
on  the  removal  of  the  bandage  from  his  eyes,  wtis  ap- 
parently— for  it  was  only  lighted  by  a single  torch, — of 
considerable  width  and  extent,  and  hewn  out  of  a bed  of 
soft  sandstone.  The  roof,  which  might  be  about  ten 
feet  high,  was  supported  by  the  trunks  of  three  large 
trees,  rudely  fashioned  into  pillars.  There  were  several 
narrow  lateral  passages  within  it,  apparently  communi- 
cating with  other  caverns ; and  at  the  further  end,  which 
was  almost  buried  in  obscurity,  there  was  a gleam  seem- 
ingly occasioned  by  the  reflection  of  the  torchlight  upon 
water.  On  the  right  hand,  stood  a pile  of  huge  stones, 
disposed  somewhat  in  the  form  of  a Druidical  altar,  on 
the  top  of  which,  as  on  a throne,  sat  the  demon  hunter, 
surrounded  by  his  satellites — one  of  whom,  horned  and 
bearded  like  a satyr,  had  clambered  the  roughened  sides 
of  the  central  pillar,  and  held  a torch  over  the  captive’s 
head. 

Half-stifled  by  the  noxious  vapor  he  had  inhaled,  and 
blinded  by  the  tightness  of  the  bandage,  it  was  some  time 
before  Wyat  fully  recovered  his  powers  of  sight  and 
utterance. 

“ Why  am  I brought  hither,  false  fiend  ? ” he  demanded, 
at  length. 

“ To  join  my  band,”  replied  the  demon,  harshly  and  im- 
periously. 

“ Never ! ” rejoined  Wyat.  “ I will  have  nought  to  do 
with  you  except  as  regards  our  compact.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


141 


“ What  I require  from  you  is  part  of  our  compact,” 
rejoined  the  demon.  “He  who  has  once  closed  hands 
with  Herne  the  hunter  cannot  retreat.  But  I mean  you 
fairly,  and  will  not  delude  you  with  false  expectations. 
What  you  seek  cannot  be  accomplished  on  the  instant. 
Ere  three  days,  Anne  Boleyn  shall  be  yours.” 

“ Give  me  some  proof  that  you  are  not  deceiving  me,, 
spirit,”  said  Wyat. 

“ Come,  then  ! ” replied  Herne.  So  saying,  he  sprang 
from  the  stone,  and,  taking  Wyat’s  hand,  led  him  towards 
the  lower  end  of  the  cave,  which  gradually  declined  till  it 
reached  the  edge  of  a small,  but  apparently  deep  pool  of 
water,  the  level  of  which  rose  above  the  rock  that  formed 
its  boundary. 

“ Remove  the  torch  ! ” thundered  the  demon  to  those 
behind.  “ Now  summon  your  false  love,  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat,”  he  added,  as  his  orders  were  obeyed,  and  the  light 
was  taken  into  one  of  the  side  passages,  so  that  its  gleam 
no  longer  fell  upon  the  water. 

“Appear,  Anne  Boleyn!”  cried  Wyat. 

Upon  this,  a shadowy  resemblance  of  her  he  had  in- 
voked flitted  over  the  surface  of  the  water,  with  hands 
outstretched  towards  him.  So  moved  was  Wyat  by  the 
vision,  that  he  would  have  flung  himself  into  the  pool  to 
grasp  it,  if  he  had  not  been  forcibly  detained  by  the  de- 
mon. During  the  struggle,  the  figure  vanished,  and  all 
was  buried  in  darkness. 

“ I have  said  she  shall  be  yours,”  cried  Herne ; “ but 
time  is  required  for  the  accomplishment  of  my  purpose. 
I have  only  power  over  her  when  evil  is  predominant  in 
her  heart.  But  such  moments  are  not  unfrequent,”  he 
added,  with  a bitter  laugh.  “ And  now  to  the  chase.  I 
promise  you  it  will  be  a wilder  and  more  exciting  ride 
than  you  ever  enjoyed  in  the  king’s  company.  To  the 
chase !— to  the  chase,  I say  J ” 


142 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Sounding  a call  upon  his  horn,  the  light  instantly  re- 
appeared. All  was  stir  and  confusion  amid  the  impish 
troop — and  presently  afterwards,  a number  of  coal-black 
horses,  and  hounds  of  the  same  hue,  leashed  in  couples, 
were  brought  out  of  one  of  the  side  passages.  Among 
the  latter  were  two  large  sable  hounds  of  Saint  Hubert’s 
breed,  whom  Herne  summoned  to  his  side  by  the  names 
of  Saturn  and  Dragon. 

A slight  noise,  as  of  a blow  dealt  against  a tree,  was 
now  heard  overhead,  and  Herne,  imposing  silence  on  the 
group  by  a hasty  gesture,  assumed  an  attitude  of  fixed 
attention.  The  stroke  was  repeated  a second  time. 

“ It  is  our  brother,  Morgan  Fenwolf,”  cried  the  demon. 

Catching  hold  of  a chain  hanging  from  the  roof,  which 
Wyat  had  not  hitherto  noticed,  he  swung  himself  into  a 
crevice  above,  and  disappeared  from  view.  During  the 
absence  of  their  leader,  the  troop  remained  motionless  and 
silent. 

A few  minutes  afterwards,  Herne  reappeared  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  cave.  He  was  accompanied  by  Fenwolf, 
between  whom  and  Wyat  a slight  glance  of  recognition 
passed. 

The  order  being  given  by  the  demon  to  mount,  Wyat, 
after  an  instant’s  hesitation,  seized  the  flowing  mane  of 
the  horse  nearest  him — for  it  was  furnished  neither  with 
saddle  nor  bridle — and  vaulted  upon  its  back.  At  the 
same  moment,  Herne  uttered  a wild  cry,  and  plunging 
into  the  pool,  sunk  within  it.  Wyat’s  steed  followed,  and 
swam  swiftly  forward  beneath  the  water. 

When  Wyat  rose  to  the  surface,  he  found  himself  in 
the  open  lake,  which  was  gleaming  in  the  moonlight. 
Before  him  he  beheld  Herne  clambering  the  bank,  accom- 
panied by  his  two  favorite  hounds,  while  a large  white 
owl  wheeled  round  his  head,  hooting  loudly.  Behind 
came  the  grisly  cavalcade*  with  their  hounds,  swimming 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


143 


from  beneath  a bank  covered  by  thick,  overhanging  trees, 
which  completely  screened  the  secret  entrance  to  the  cave. 
Having  no  control  over  his  steed,  Wyat  was  obliged  to 
surrender  himself  to  its  guidance,  and  was  soon  placed  by 
the  side  of  the  demon  hunter. 

“Pledge  me,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,”  said  Herne,  unsling- 
ing a gourd-shaped  flask  from  his  girdle,  and  offering 
it  to  him.  “ ’Tis  a rare  wine,  and  will  prevent  you  from 
suffering  from  your  bath,  as  well  as  give  you  spirits  for 
the  chase.” 

Chilled  to  the  bone  by  the  immersion  he  had  undergone, 
Wyat  did  not  refuse  the  offer,  but  placing  the  flask  to  his 
lips,  took  a deep  draught  from  it.  The  demon  uttered  a 
low,  bitter  laugh,  as  he  received  back  the  flask,  and  he 
slung  it  to  his  girdle  without  tasting  it. 

The  effect  of  the  potion  upon  Wyat  was  extraordinary. 
The  whole  scene  seemed  to  dance  round  him  ; — the  imp- 
ish figures  in  the  lake,  or  upon  its  bank,  assumed  forms 
yet  more  fantastic ; the  horses  looked  like  monsters  of 
the  deep ; the  hounds  like  wolves  and  ferocious  beasts ; 
the  branches  of  the  trees  writhed  and  shot  forward  like 
hissing  serpents ; — and  though  this  effect  speedily  passed 
off,  it  left  behind  it  a wild  and  maddening  feeling  of 
excitement. 

“ A noble  hart  is  lying  in  yon  glen,”  said  Morgan  Fen- 
wolf,  advancing  towards  his  leader ; “ I tracked  his  slot 
thither  this  evening.” 

“ Haste,  and  unharbor  him,”  replied  Herne,  “ and  as 
soon  as  you  rouse  him,  give  the  halloa.” 

Fen  wolf  obeyed;  and,  shortly  afterwards,  a cry  was 
heard  from  the  glen. 

“ List  halloa ! list  halloa ! ” cried  Herne,  w that’s  he  ! 
that’s  he ! hyke,  Saturn ! hyke,  Dragon  ! — Away ! — away, 
my  merry  men  all.” 


144 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW  SIR  THOMAS  WYAT  HUNTED  WITH  HERNE. 

Accompanied  by  Wyat,  and  followed  by  the  whole 
cavalcade,  Herne  dashed  into  the  glen,  where  Fenwolf 
awaited  him.  Threading  the  hollow,  the  troop  descried 
the  hart,  flying  swiftly  along  a sweeping  glade,  at  some 
two  hundred  yards  distance.  The  glade  was  passed — a 
woody  knoll  skirted — a valley  traversed — and  the  hart 
plunged  into  a thick  grove  clothing  the  side  of  Hawk’s 
Hill.  But  it  offered  him  no  secure  retreat.  Dragon  and 
Saturn  were  close  upon  him,  and  behind  them  came  Herne, 
crashing  through  the  branches  of  the  trees,  and  heedless 
of  all  impediments.  By  and  by,  the  thicket  became  more 
open,  and  they  entered  Cranbourne  Chase.  But  the  hart 
soon  quitted  it  to  return  to  the  Great  Park,  and  darted 
down  a declivity  skirted  by  a line  of  noble  oaks.  Here 
he  was  so  hotly  pressed  by  his  fierce  opponents,  whose 
fangs  he  could  almost  feel  within  his  haunches,  that  he 
suddenly  stopped,  and  stood  at  bay,  receiving  the  foremost 
of  his  assailants,  Saturn,  on  the  points  of  his  horns.  But 
his  defense,  though  gallant,  was  unavailing.  In  another 
instant,  Herne  came  up,  and  dismounting,  called  off 
Dragon,  who  was  about  to  take  the  place  of  his  wounded 
companion.  Drawing  a knife  from  his  girdle,  the  hunter 
threw  himself  on  the  ground,  and  advancing  on  all  fours, 
towards  the  hart,  could  scarcely  be  distinguished  himself 
from  some  denizen  of  the  forest’  As  he  approached,  the 
hart  snorted  and  bellowed  fiercely,  and  dashed  its  horns 
against  him ; but  the  blow  was  received  by  the  hunter 
upon  his  own  antlered  helm,  and  at  the  same  moment,  his 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  145 

knife  was  thrust  to  the  hilt  into  the  stag’s  throat,  and  it 
fell  to  the  ground. 

Springing  to  his  feet,  Herne  whooped  joyfully,  placed 
his  bugle  to  his  lips,  and  blew  the  dead  mot.  He  then 
shouted  to  Fenwolf  to  call  away  and  couple  the  hounds, 
and  striking  off  the  deer’s  right  fore  foot  with  his  knife, 
presented  it  to  Wyat.  Several  large  leafy  branches  being 
gathered  and  laid  upon  the  ground,  the  hart  was  placed 
upon  them,  and  Herne  commenced  breaking  him  up,  as 
the  process  of  dismembering  the  deer  is  termed  in  the 
language  of  woodcraft.  His  first  step  was  to  cut  off  the 
animal’s  head,  which  he  performed  by  a single  blow  with 
his  heavy  trenchant  knife. 

“ Give  the  hounds  the  flesh,”  he  said,  delivering  the 
trophy  to  Fenwolf  ; “ but  keep  the  antlers,  for  it  is  a great 
deer  of  head.” 

Placing  the  head  on  a hunting-pole,  Fenwolf  withdrew 
to  an  open  space  among  the  trees,  and  halloing  to  the 
others,  they  immediately  cast  off  the  hounds,  who  rushed 
towards  him,  leaping  and  baying  at  the  stag’s  head,  which 
he  alternately  raised  and  lowered,  until  they  were  suffi- 
ciently excited,  when  he  threw  it  on  the  ground  before 
them. 

While  this  was  going  forward,  the  rest  of  the  band  were 
occupied  in  various  ways, — some  striking  a light  with 
flint  and  steel — some  gathering  together  sticks  and  dried 
leaves  to  form  a fire — others  producing  various  strange- 
shaped cooking  utensils — while  others  were  assisting  their 
leader  in  his  butcherly  task,  which  he  executed  with  in- 
finite skill  and  expedition. 

As  soon  as  the  fire  was  kindled,  Herne  distributed 
certain  portions  of  the  venison  among  his  followers,  which 
were  instantly  thrown  upon  the  embers  to  broil ; while  a 
few  choice  morsels  were  stewed  in  a pan  with  wine,  and 
subsequently  offered  to  the  leader  and  Wyat. 


146 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


This  hasty  repast  concluded,  the  demon  ordered  the  fire 
to  be  extinguished,  and  the  quarters  of  the  deer  to  be 
carried  to  the  cave.  He  then  mounted  his  steed,  and  at- 
tended by  Wyat  and  the  rest  of  his  troop,  except  those 
engaged  in  executing  his  orders,  galloped  towards  Snow 
Hill,  where  he  speedily  succeeded  in  unharboring  another 
noble  hart. 

Away  then  went  the  whole  party — stag,  hounds,  hunt- 
smen, sweeping,  like  a dark  cloud,  down  the  hill,  and 
crossing  the  wide  moonlit  glade,  studded  with  noble  trees, 
on  the  west  of  the  great  avenue. 

For  awhile,  the  hart  held  a course  parallel  with  the 
avenue ; he  then  dashed  across  it,  threaded  the  intricate 
woods  on  the  opposite  side,  tracked  a long  glen,  and  leap- 
ing the  pales,  entered  the  Home  Park.  It  almost  seemed 
as  if  he  designed  to  seek  shelter  within  the  castle,  for  he 
made  straight  towards  it,  and  was  only  diverted  by  Herne 
himself,  who,  shooting  past  him  with  incredible  swiftness, 
turned  him  towards  the  lower  part  of  the  park. 

Here  the  chase  continued  with  unabated  ardor,  until, 
reaching  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  the  hart  plunged  into 
it,  and  suffered  himself  to  be  carried  noiselessly  down  the 
current.  But  Herne  followed  him  along  the  banks,  and 
when  sufficiently  near,  dashed  into  the  stream,  and  drove 
him  again  ashore. 

Once  more  they  flew  across  the  Home  Park — once  more 
S they  leaped  its  pales — once  more  they  entered  the  Great 
Park — but  this  time,  the  stag  took  the  direction  of  Engle- 
field  Green.  He  was  not,  however,  allowed  to  break  forth 
into  the  open  country  ; but  driven  again  into  the  thick 
woods,  he  held  on  with  wondrous  speed,  till  the  lake  ap- 
peared in  view.  In  another  instant,  he  was  swimming 
across  it. 

Before  the  eddies  occasioned  by  the  affrighted  animal’s 
plunge  had  described  a wide  ring,  Herne  had  quitted  his 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


147 


steed,  and  was  cleaving  with  rapid  strokes,  the  waters  of 
the  lake.  Finding  escape  impossible,  the  hart  turned  to 
meet  him,  and  sought  to  strike  him  with  his  horns — but 
as  in  the  case  of  his  ill-fated  brother  of  the  wood,  the 
blow  was  warded  by  the  antlered  helm  of  the  swimmer. 
The  next  moment,  the  clear  water  was  dyed  with  blood, 
and  Herne,  catching  the  gasping  animal  by  the  head, 
guided  his  body  to  shore. 

Again  the  process  of  breaking  up  the  stag  was  gone 
through;  and  when  Herne  had  concluded  his  task,  he 
once  more  offered  his  gourd  to  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.  Reck- 
less of  the  consequences,  the  knight  placed  the  flask  to 
his  lips,  and  draining  it  to  the  last  drop,  fell  from  his 
horse  insensible. 


148 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  WYAT  BEHELD  MABEL  LYNDWOOD  ; AND  HOW  HE  WAS 
BOWED  BY  MORGAN  FENWOLF  UPON  THE  LAKE. 

When  perfect  consciousness  returned  to  him,  Wyat 
found  himself  lying  upon  a pallet  in  what  he  at  first  took 
to  be  the  cell  of  an  anchorite  ; but  as  the  recollection  of 
recent  events  arose  more  distinctly  before  him,  he  guessed 
it  to  be  a chamber  connected  with  the  sandstone  cave.  A 
small  lamp,  placed  in  a recess,  lighted  the  cell ; and  upon 
a footstool  by  his  bed  stood  a jug  of  water,  and  a cup 
containing  some  drink,  in  which  herbs  had  evidently  been 
infused.  Well-nigh  emptying  the  jug,  for  he  felt  parched 
with  thirst,  Wyat  attired  himself,  took  up  the  lamp,  and 
walked  into  the  main  cavern.  No  one  was  there,  nor 
could  he  obtain  any  answer  to  his  calls.  Evidences,  how- 
ever, were  not  wanting  to  prove  that  a feast  had  recently 
been  held  there.  On  one  side  were  the  scarcely-extin- 
guished embers  of  a large  wood  fire ; and  in  the  midst  of 
the  chamber  was  a rude  table,  covered  with  drinking 
horns  and  wooden  platters,  as  well  as  with  the  remains  of 
three  or  four  haunches  of  venison.  While  contemplating 
this  scene  Wyat  heard  footsteps  in  one  of  the  lateral  pas- 
sages, and  presently  afterwards  Morgan  Fenwolf  made 
his  appearance. 

“ So  you  are  come  round  at  last,  Sir  Thomas,”  observed 
the  keeper,  in  a slightly  sarcastic  tone. 

“What  has  ailed  me?”  asked  Wyat,  in  surprise. 

“ You  have  had  a fever  for  three  days,”  returned  Fen- 
wolf, “ and  have  been  raving  like  a madman.” 

“ Three  days ! ” muttered  Wyat.  “ The  false,  juggling 
fiend  promised  her  to  me  ou  the  third  day ! ” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


149 


“ Fear  not ; — Herne  will  be  as  good  as  his  word,”  said 
Fenwolf ; “ but  will  you  go  forth  with  me.  I am  about 
to  visit  my  nets.  It  is  a fine  day,  and  a row  on  the  lake 
will  do  you  good.” 

Wyat  acquiesced,  and  followed  Fenwolf,  who  returned 
along  the  passage.  It  grew  narrower  at  the  sides,  and 
lower  in  the  roof,  as  they  advanced,  until  at  last  they 
were  compelled  to  move  forward  on  their  hands  and 
knees.  For  some  space,  the  passage,  or  rather  hole,  (for 
it  was  nothing  more,)  ran  on  a level.  A steep  and  tor- 
tuous ascent  then  commenced,  which  brought  them  to  an 
outlet  concealed  by  a large  stone.  Pushing  it  aside, 
Fenwolf  crept  forth,  and  immediately  afterwards,  Wyat 
emerged  into  a grove,  through  which,  on  one  side,  the 
gleaming  waters  of  the  lake  were  discernible.  The 
keeper’s  first  business  was  to  replace  the  stone,  which 
was  so  screened  by  brambles  and  bushes  that  it  could 
not,  unless  careful  search  were  made,  be  detected. 

Making  his  way  through  the  trees  to  the  side  of  the 
lake,  Fenwolf  marched  along  the  greensward,  in  the 
direction  of  Tristram  Lynd wood’s  cottage.  W yat  mechan- 
ically followed  him:  but  he  was  so  preoccupied,  that 
he  scarcely  heeded  the  fair  Mabel,  nor  was  it  till  after 
his  embarkation  in  the  skiff  with  the  keeper,  when  she 
came  forth  to  look  at  them,  that  he  was  at  all  struck  with 
her  beauty.  He  then  inquired  her  name  from  Fenwolf. 

“ She  is  called  Mabel  Lynd  wood,  and  is  an  old  forester’s 
granddaughter,”  replied  the  other,  somewhat  gruffly. 

“ And  do  you  seek  her  love  ? ” asked  Wyat. 

“ Ay,  and  wherefore  not  ? ” asked  Fenwolf,  with  a look 
of  displeasure. 

“ Nay,  I know  not,  friend,”  rejoined  Wyat.  “ She  is  a 
comely  damsel.” 

“ What ! — comelier  than  the  Lady  Anne  ? ” demanded 
Fenwolf,  spitefully. 


150 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“I  said  not  so,”  replied  Wyat;  “but  she  is  very  fair, 
and  looks  true-hearted.” 

Fen  wolf  glanced  at  him  from  under  his  brows ; and 
plunging  his  oars  into  the  water,  soon  carried  him  out  of 
sight  of  the  maiden. 

It  was  high  noon,  and  the  day  was  one  of  resplendent 
loveliness.  The  lake  sparkled  in  the  sunshine,  and  as 
they  shot  past  its  tiny  bays  and  woody  headlands,  new 
beauties  were  every  moment  revealed  to  them.  But  while 
the  scene  softened  Wyat’s  feelings,  it  filled  him  with  in- 
tolerable remorse,  and  so  poignant  did  his  emotions  be- 
come, that  he  pressed  his  hands  upon  his  eyes  to  shut  out 
the  lovely  prospect.  When  he  looked  up  again,  the  scene 
was  changed.  The  skiff  had  entered  a narrow  creek, 
arched  over  by  huge  trees,  and  looking  as  dark  and  gloomy 
as  the  rest  of  the  lake  was  fair  and  smiling.  It  was  closed 
in  by  a high  overhanging  bank,  crested  by  two  tall  trees, 
whose  tangled  roots  protruded  through  it,  like  monstrous 
reptiles,  while  their  branches  cast  a heavy  shade  over  the 
deep,  sluggish  water. 

“ Why  have  you  come  here  ? ” demanded  Wyat,  looking 
uneasily  round  the  forbidding  spot. 

“ You  will  discover  anon,”  replied  Fen  wolf,  moodily. 

“ Go  back  into  the  sunshine,  and  take  me  to  some  pleas- 
ant bank, — I will  not  land  here,”  said  Wyat,  sternly. 

“ Needs  must  when — I need  not  remind  you  of  the  prov- 
erb,” rejoined  Fen  wolf,  with  a sneer. 

“ Give  me  the  oars,  thou  malapert  knave ! ” cried  Wyat, 
fiercely ; “ and  I will  put  myself  ashore.” 

“ Keep  quiet,”  said  Fen  wolf ; “ you  must,  perforce, 
abide  our  master’s  coming.” 

Wyat  gazed  at  the  keeper  for  a moment,  as  if  with  the 
intention  of  throwing  him  overboard  ; but  abandoning  the 
idea,  he  rose  up  in  the  boat,  and  caught  at  what  he  took 
to  be  a root  of  the  tree  above.  To  his  surprise  and  alarm 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


151 


it  closed  upon  him  with  an  iron  grasp,  and  he  felt  himself 
dragged  upwards,  while  the  skiff,  impelled  by  a sudden 
stroke  from  Morgan  Fenwolf,  shot  from  beneath  him. 
All  Wyat’s  efforts  to  disengage  himself  were  vain,  and  a 
wild,  demoniacal  laugh,  echoed  by  a chorus  of  voices,  pro- 
claimed him  in  the  power  of  Herne  the  hunter.  The  next 
moment,  he  was  set  on  the  top  of  the  bank,  while  the 
demon  greeted  him  with  a mocking  laugh. 

“ So,  you  thought  to  escape  me,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat ! ” 
he  cried  in  a taunting  tone — “ but  any  such  attempt  will 
prove  fruitless.  The  murderer  may  repent  the  blow  when 
dealt ; the  thief  may  desire  to  restore  the  gold  he  has  pur- 
loined ; the  barterer  of  his  soul  may  rue  his  bargain ; — - 
but  they  are  Satan’s  nevertheless.  You  are  mine,  and 
nothing  can  redeem  you  ! ” 

“ Woe  is  me,  that  it  should  be  so!  ” groaned  Wyat. 

“ Lamentation  is  useless  and  unworthy  of  you,”  rejoined 
Herne,  scornfully.  “ Your  wish  will  be  speedily  accom- 
plished. This  very  night  your  kingly  rival  shall  be 
placed  in  your  hands.” 

“Ha!”  exclaimed  Wyat,  the  flame  of  jealousy  again 
rising  within  his  breast. 

“You  can  make  your  own  terms  with  him  for  the  Lady 
Anne,”  pursued  Herne.  “ His  life  will  be  at  your  dis- 
posal.” 

“ Do  you  promise  this  ? ” cried  Wyat. 

“ Ay,”  replied  Herne.  “ Put  yourself  under  the  conduct 
of  Fenwolf,  and  all  shall  happen  as  you  desire.  We  shall 
meet  again  at  night.  I have  other  business  on  hand  now. 
Meschines,”  he  added,  to  one  of  his  attendants,  “ go  with 
Sir  Thomas  to  the  skiff.” 

The  personage  who  received  the  command,  and  who 
was  wildly  and  fantastically  habited,  beckoned  Wyat  to 
follow  him,  and,  after  many  twistings  and  turnings, 
brought  them  to  the  edge  of  the  lake,  where  the  skiff  was 


152 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


lying,  with  Fen  wolf  reclining  at  full  length  upon  its 
benches.  He  arose,  however,  quickly,  on  the  appearance 
of  Meschines,  and  asked  him  for  some  provisions,  which 
the  latter  promised  to  bring;  and  while  Wyat  got  into 
the  skiff,  he  disappeared,  but  returned,  a few  minutes 
afterwards,  with  a basket,  which  he  gave  to  the  keeper. 

Crossing  the  lake,  Fenwolf  then  shaped  his  course  to- 
wards a verdant  bank,  enameled  with  wild  flowers,  where 
he  landed.  The  basket  being  opened  was  found  to  con- 
tain a flask  of  wine  and  the  better  part  of  a venison  pasty, 
of  which  Wyat,  whose  appetite  was  keen  enough  after  his 
long  fasting,  ate  heartily.  He  then  stretched  himself  on 
the  velvet  sod  and  dropped  into  a tranquil  slumber,  which 
lasted  to  a late  hour  in  the  evening.  He  was  roused  from 
it  by  a hand  laid  on  his  shoulder,  while  a deep  voice 
thundered  in  his  ear — “Up,  up,  Sir  Thomas,  and  follow 
me,  and  I will  place  the  king  in  your  hands  ! ” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


153 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOW  THE  KING  AND  THE  DUKE  OF  SUFFOLK  WERE  ASSAILED 

BY  HERNE’S  BAND  ; AND  WHAT  FOLLOWED  THE  ATTACK. 

Henry  and  Suffolk,  on  leaving  the  forester’s  hut,  took 
their  way  for  a short  space  along  the  side  of  the  lake,  and 
then  turned  into  a path,  leading  through  the  trees  up  the 
eminence  on  the  left.  The  king  was  in  a joyous  mood, 
and  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  the  passion  with  which 
the  fair  damsel  had  inspired  him. 

46 1’  faith  ! ” he  cried, 46  the  cardinal  has  a quick  eye  for 
a pretty  wench.  I have  heard  that  he  loves  one  in  se- 
cret ; and  I am  therefore  the  more  beholden  to  him  for 
discovering  Mabel  to  me.” 

44  You  forget,  my  liege,  that  it  is  his  object  to  withdraw 
your  regards  from  the  Lady  Anne  Boleyn,”  remarked 
Suffolk. 

44 1 care  not  what  his  motive  may  be,  as  long  as  the  re- 
sult is  so  satisfactory,”  returned  Henry.  44  Confess  now, 
Suffolk,  you  never  beheld  a figure  so  perfect — a com- 
plexion so  blooming — or  eyes  so  bright.  As  to  her  lips, 
by  my  soul  I never  tasted  such  ! ” 

44  And  your  majesty  is  not  inexperienced  in  such  mat- 
ters,” laughed  Suffolk.  44  For  my  own  part,  I was  as 
much  struck  by  her  grace  as  by  her  beauty,  and  can 
scarcely  persuade  myself  she  can  be  nothing  more  than  a 
mere  forester’s  granddaughter.” 

44  Wolsey  told  me  there  was  a mystery  about  her  birth,” 
rejoined  Henry ; 44  but,  pest  on  it ! her  beauty  drove  all 
recollection  of  the  matter  out  of  my  head.  I will  go 
back,  and  question  her  now.” 


154 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“Your  majesty  forgets  that  your  absence  from  the 
castle  will  occasion  surprise,  if  not  alarm,”  said  Suffolk. 
“ The  mystery  will  keep  till  to-morrow.” 

“Tut,  tut — I will  return,”  said  the  king,  perversely. 
And  Suffolk,  knowing  his  wilfulness,  and  that  all  remon- 
strance would  prove  fruitless,  retraced  his  steps  with  him. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  they  perceived  a 
female  figure  at  the  bottom  of  the  ascent,  just  where  the 
path  turned  off  on  the  margin  of  the  lake. 

“As  I live,  there  she  is  ! ” exclaimed  the  king,  joyfully. 
“ She  has  divined  my  wishes,  and  is  come  herself  to  tell 
me  her  history.” 

And  he  sprang  forward,  while  Mabel  advanced  rapidly 
towards  him. 

They  met  half  way,  and  Henry  would  have  caught  her 
in  his  arms,  but  she  avoided  him,  exclaiming,  in  a tone  of 
confusion  and  alarm — “ Thank  Heaven ! I have  found 
you,  sire  ! ” 

“Thank  Heaven  too,  sweetheart!”  rejoined  Henry; 
“ I would  not  hide  when  you  are  the  seeker.  So  you 
know  me, — ha  ? ” 

“ I knew  you  at  first,”  replied  Mabel,  confusedly.  “ I 
saw  you  at  the  great  hunting  party ; and,  once  beheld, 
your  majesty  is  not  easily  forgotten.” 

“ Ha ! by  Saint  George ! you  turn  a compliment  as 
soothly  as  the  most  practised  dame  at  court,”  cried  Henry, 
catching  her  hand. 

“ Beseech  your  majesty,  release  me  ! ” returned  Mabel, 
struggling  to  get  free.  “ I did  not  follow  you  on  the 
light  errand  you  suppose,  but  to  warn  you  of  danger. 
Before  you  quitted  my  grandsire’s  cottage,  I told  you  this 
part  of  the  forest  was  haunted  by  plunderers  and  evil 
beings,  and  apprehensive  lest  some  mischance  might  be- 
fall you,  I opened  the  window  softly  to  look  after  you ” 

“ And  you  overheard  me  tell  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  how 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


155 


much  smitten  I was  with  your  beauty,  ha  ? ” interrupted 
the  king,  squeezing  her  hand — “ and  how  resolved  I was 
to  make  you  mine, — ha ! sweetheart  ? ” 

“ The  words  I heard  were  of  very  different  import,  my 
liege,”  rejoined  Mabel.  “ You  were  menaced  by  miscre- 
ants who  purposed  to  waylay  you  before  you  could  reach 
your  steed.” 

“ Let  them  come,”  replied  Henry,  carelessly,  “ they  shall 
pay  for  their  villainy.  How  many  were  there  ? ” 

“ Two,  sire,”  answered  Mabel ; “ but  one  of  them  was 
Herne,  the  weird  hunter  of  the  forest.  He  said  he  would 
summon  his  band  to  make  you  captive.  What  can  your 
strong  arm,  even  aided  by  that  of  the  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
avail  against  numbers  ? ” 

“ Captive ! ha ! ” exclaimed  the  king.  “ Said  the  knave 
so?” 

“ He  did,  sire,”  replied  Mabel ; “ and  I knew  it  was 
Herne  by  his  antlered  helm.” 

“ There  is  reason  in  what  the  damsel  says,  my  liege,” 
interposed  Suffolk.  “ If  possible,  you  had  better  avoid 
an  encounter  with  the  villains.” 

“ My  hands  itch  to  give  them  a lesson,”  rejoined  Henry ; 
“ but  I will  be  ruled  by  you.  God’s  death ! I will  return 
to-morrow  and  hunt  them  down  like  so  many  wolves.” 

“ Where  are  your  horses,  sire  ? ” asked  Mabel. 

“ Tied  to  a tree  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,”  replied  Henry. 
“ But  I have  attendants  midway  between  this  spot  and 
Snow  Hill.” 

“ This  way,  then ! ” said  Mabel,  breaking  from  him, 
and  darting  into  a narrow  path  among  the  trees. 

Henry  ran  after  her,  but  was  not  agile  enough  to  over- 
take her.  At  length,  she  stopped. 

“If  your  majesty  will  pursue  this  path,”  she  cried, 
“ you  will  come  to  an  open  space  amid  the  trees,  when,  if 
you  will  direct  your  course  towards  a large  beech-tree  on 


156 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


the  opposite  side,  you  will  find  another  narrow  path, 
which  will  take  you  where  you  desire  to  go.” 

“ But  I cannot  go  alone,”  cried  Henry. 

Mabel,  however,  slipped  past  him,  and  was  out  of  sight 
in  an  instant. 

Henry  looked  as  if  he  meant  to  follow  her,  but  Suffolk 
ventured  to  arrest  him. 

64  Do  not  tarry  here,  longer,  my  gracious  liege,”  said  the 
duke.  44  Danger  is  to  be  apprehended,  and  the  sooner 
you  rejoin  your  attendants  the  better.  Return  with  them, 
if  you  please,  but  do  not  expose  yourself  further  now.” 

Henry  yielded,  though  reluctantly,  and  they  walked  on 
in  silence.  Ere  long,  they  arrived  at  the  open  space  de- 
scribed by  Mabel,  and  immediately  perceived  the  large 
beech- tree,  behind  which  they  found  the  path. 

By  this  time,  the  moon  had  arisen,  and  as  they  emerged 
upon  the  marsh,  they  easily  discovered  a track,  though 
not  broader  than  a sheep-walk,  leading  along  its  edge.  As 
they  hurried  across  it,  Suffolk  occasionally  cast  a furtive 
glance  over  his  shoulder,  but  he  saw  nothing  to  alarm  him. 
The  whole  tract  of  marshy  land  on  the  left  was  hidden 
from  view  by  a silvery  mist. 

In  a few  minutes,  the  king  and  his  companion  gained 
firmer  ground,  and  ascending  the  gentle  elevation  on  the 
other  side  of  the  marsh,  made  their  way  to  a little  knoll 
crowned  by  a huge  oak,  which  commanded  a fine  view  of 
the  lake,  winding  through  the  valley  beyond.  Henry, 
who  was  a few  yards  in  advance  of  his  companion,  paused 
at  a short  distance  from  the  tree,  and  being  somewhat 
overheated,  took  off  his  cap  to  wipe  his  brow,  laughingly 
observing, — 44  In  good  truth,  Suffolk,  we  must  henceforth 
be  rated  as  miserable  faineants,  to  be  scared  from  our  path 
by  a silly  wench’s  tale  of  deer-stealers  and  wild  hunts- 
men. I am  sorry  I yielded  to  her  entreaties.  If  Herne 
be  still  extant,  he  must  be  more  than  a century  and  a half 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


157 


old,  for  unless  the  legend  is  false,  he  flourished  in  the  time 
of  my  predecessor,  Richard  the  Second.  I would  I could 
see  him ! ” 

“ Behold  him,  then ! ” cried  a harsh  voice  from  behind. 

Turning  at  the  sound,  Henry  perceived  a tall,  dark 
figure,  of  hideous  physiognomy  and  strange  attire,  helmed 
with  a huge  pair  of  antlers,  standing  between  him  and 
the  oak  tree.  So  sudden  was  the  appearance  of  the  figure, 
that,  in  spite  of  himself,  the  king  slightly  started. 

“ What  art  thou  ? — ha ! ” he  demanded. 

“ What  I have  said,”  replied  the  demon.  « I am  Herne 
the  hunter.  Welcome  to  my  domain,  Harry  of  England. 
You  are  lord  of  the  castle,  but  I am  lord  of  the  forest. 
Ha!  ha!” 

“ I am  lord  both  of  the  forest  and  the  castle — yea,  of 
all  this  broad  land,  false  fiend ! ” cried  the  king,  “ and 
none  shall  dispute  it  with  me.  In  the  name  of  the  most 
holy  faith  of  which  I am  the  defender,  I command  thee 
to  avoid  my  path  ! Get  thee  backwards,  Satan ! ” 

The  demon  laughed  derisively. 

“ Harry  of  England,  advance  towards  me,  and  you  ad- 
vance upon  your  peril,”  he  rejoined. 

“ Avaunt,  I say!”  cried  the  king.  “In  the  name  of 
the  blessed  Trinity,  and  of  all  holy  angels  and  saints,  I 
strike ! ” 

And  he  whirled  the  staff  round  his  head.  But  ere  the 
weapon  could  descend,  a flash  of  dazzling  fire  encircled 
the  demon,  amidst  which  he  vanished. 

“ Heaven  protect  us  ! ” exclaimed  Henry,  appalled. 

At  this  juncture,  the  sound  of  a horn  was  heard,  and  a 
number  of  wild  figures  in  fantastic  garbs, — some  mounted 
on  swarthy  steeds,  and  accompanied  by  hounds, — others 
on  foot,  issued  from  the  adjoining  covert,  and  hurried  to- 
wards the  spot  occupied  by  the  king. 

“Aha!”  exclaimed  Henry — “more  of  the  same  sort. 


158 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Hell,  it  would  seem,  has  let  loose  her  hosts ; but  I have 
no  fear  of  them.  Stand  by  me,  Suffolk.” 

“ To  the  death,  sire,”  replied  the  duke,  drawing  his 
sword. 

By  this  time,  one  of  the  foremost  of  the  impish  crew 
had  reached  the  king,  and  commanded  him  to  yield  him- 
self prisoner. 

“ Dost  know  whom  thou  askest  to  yield,  dog ! ” cried 
Henry,  furiously. 

“ Yea,”  replied  the  other,  “ thou  art  the  king ! ” 

“Then  down  on  thy  knees,  traitor!”  roared  Henry; 
“ down  all  of  ye,  and  sue  for  mercy.” 

“For  mercy — ha!  ha!”  rejoined  the  other,  “it  is  thy 
turn  to  sue  for  mercy,  tyrant ! We  acknowledge  no  other 
ruler  than  Herne  the  hunter.” 

“ Then  seek  him  in  hell ! ” cried  Henry,  dealing  the 
speaker  a tremendous  blow  on  the  head  with  his  staff, 
which  brought  him  senseless  to  the  ground. 

The  others  immediately  closed  round  him,  and  en- 
deavored to  seize  the  king. 

“ Ha  ! dogs  ! — ha ! traitors ! ” vociferated  Henry,  ply- 
ing his  staff  with  great  activity,  and  bringing  down  an 
assailant  at  each  stroke  ; “ do  you  dare  to  lay  hands  upon 
our  sacred  person  ? Back  ! back  ! ” 

The  determined  resistance  offered  by  the  king,  sup- 
ported as  he  was  by  Suffolk,  paralyzed  his  assailants,  who 
seemed  more  bent  upon  securing  his  person  than  on  doing 
him  injury.  But  Suffolk’s  attention  was  presently 
diverted  by  the  attack  of  a fierce  black  hound,  set  upon 
him  by  a stout  fellow  in  a bearded  mask.  After  a hard 
struggle,  and  not  before  he  had  been  severely  bitten  in 
the  arm,  the  duke  contrived  to  despatch  his  assailant. 

“ This  to  avenge  poor  Bawsey ! ” cried  the  man  who 
had  set  on  the  hound,  stabbing  at  Suffolk  with  his  knife. 

But  the  duke  parried  the  blow,  and,  disarming  his 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  159 

antagonist,  forced  him  to  the  ground,  and  tearing  off  his 
mask,  disclosed  the  features  of  Morgan  Fenwolf. 

Meanwhile,  Henry  had  been  placed  in  considerable 
jeopardy.  Like  Suffolk,  he  had  slaughtered  a hound,  and, 
in  aiming  a blow  at  the  villain  who  set  it  on,  his  foot 
slipped,  and  he  lay  at  his  mercy.  The  wretch  raised  his 
knife,  and  was  in  the  act  of  striking,  when  a sword  was 
passed  through  his  body.  The  blow  was  decisive ; the 
king  instantly  arose,  and  the  rest  of  his  assailants — horse 
as  well  as  foot — disheartened  by  what  had  occurred,  beat 
a hasty  retreat.  Harry  turned  to  look  for  his  deliverer 
and  uttered  an  exclamation  of  astonishment  and  anger. 

44  Ah  ! God’s  death  ! ” he  cried,  “ can  I believe  my  eyes  ? 
Is  it  you,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  ? ” 

44  Ay,”  replied  the  other. 

44  What  do  you  here  ? ha ! ” demanded  the  king.  44  You 
should  be  in  Paris.” 

44 1 have  tarried  for  revenge,”  replied  Wyat. 

44  Revenge ! — ha  ! ” cried  Henry.  44  On  whom  ? ” 

44  On  you,”  replied  Wyat. 

44  What ! ” vociferated  Henry,  foaming  with  rage — 44  Is 
it  you,  traitor,  who  have  devised  this  damnable  plot  ? — is 
it  you  who  would  make  your  king  a captive  ? — you  who 
slay  him  ? Have  you  leagued  yourself  with  fiends  ? ” 

But  Wyat  made  no  answer;  and  though  he  lowered 
the  point  of  his  sword,  he  regarded  the  king  sternly. 

A female  figure  now  rushed  forward,  and  bending  be- 
fore the  king,  cried,  in  an  imploring  voice, — 

44  Spare  him,  sire — spare  him ! He  is  no  party  to  the 
attack.  I was  near  him  in  yon  wood,  and  he  stirred  not 
forth  till  he  saw  your  life  in  danger.  He  then  delivered 
you  from  the  assassin.” 

44 1 did  so,  because  I reserved  him  for  my  own  hand,” 
said  Wyat. 

44  You  hear  him  confess  his  treason,”  cried  Henry  ; 


160 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


44  down  on  your  knees,  villain,  or  I will  strike  you  to  my 
feet.” 

“ He  has  just  saved  your  life,  my  liege,”  cried  the  sup- 
plicant. “ Oh,  spare  him ! ” 

“ What  makes  you  here,  Mabel  ? ” cried  Henry, 
angrily.  , 

“ I followed  your  majesty  unseen,”  she  replied,  in  some 
confusion,  “ and  reached  yon  wood  just  as  the  attack 
commenced.  I did  not  dare  to  advance  further.” 

“ You  should  have  gone  home — gone  home,”  rejoined 
the  king.  “ Wyat,”  he  continued,  in  a tone  of  stern  re- 
proach, 44  you  were  once  a loyal  subject.  What  means 
this  change  ? ” 

44  It  means  that  you  have  robbed  me  of  a mistress,” 
replied  Wyat;  44 and  for  this  cause  I have  damned  my- 
self.” 

44  Pardon  him ! — oh,  pardon  him,  sire  ! ” cried  Mabel. 

44 1 cannot  understand  you,  Wyat,”  said  Henry,  after  a 
pause ; 44  but  I have  myself  suffered  from  the  pangs  of 
jealousy.  You  have  saved  my  life,  and  I will  spare 
yours.” 

44  Sire ! ” cried  Wyat. 

44  Suffolk  ! ” exclaimed  Henry,  looking  towards  the  duke, 
who  was  holding  Fenwolf  by  the  throat, 44  shall  I be  justi- 
fied in  letting  him  go  free  ? ” 

44  Strike  ! — strike  ! ” cried  a deep  voice  in  Wyat’s  ear; 
44  your  rival  is  now  in  your  power.” 

44  Far  be  it  from  me  to  thwart  your  majesty’s  generous 
impulses,”  rejoined  Suffolk.  44Itistrue  that  Wyat  has 
saved  your  life ; and  if  he  had  been  disposed  to  take  it, 
you  have  this  moment  exposed  yourself  to  him.” 

44  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,”  said  the  king,  turning  to  him, 
44  you  have  my  full  and  free  pardon.  Quit  this  forest  in- 
stantly, and  make  your  way  to  Paris.  If  you  are  found 
within  it  to-morrow,  you  will  be  lodged  in  the  Tower.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  161 

Wyat  knelt  clown,  and  would  have  pressed  Henry’s 
hand  to  his  lips ; but  the  latter  pushed  him  aside. 

“ No — no  ! Not  now — on  your  return.” 

Thus  rebuffed,  Wyat  strode  away,  and  as  he  passed  the 
tree,  he  heard  a voice  exclaim — 

“ You  have  escaped  him,  but  think  not  to  escape 
me  ! ” 

“ And  now,  sweetheart,”  said  Henry,  turning  to  Mabel, 
44  since  you  are  so  far  on  the  way,  you  shall  go  with  me 
to  the  castle.” 

“ On  no  account,  my  liege,”  she  returned ; 44  my  grand- 
sire  will  wonder  what  has  become  of  me.  He  must  al- 
ready be  in  great  alarm.” 

44  But  I will  send  an  attendant  to  quiet  his  fears,”  urged 
Henry. 

44  That  would  only  serve  to  increase  them,”  she  rejoinedo 
44  Nay,  I must  go.” 

And  breaking  from  him,  she  darted  swiftly  down  the 
hill,  and  glanced  across  the  marsh  like  a moonbeam. 

44  Plague  on  it ! ” cried  Henry — 44 1 have  again  forgotten 
to  question  her  about  her  birth.” 

44  Shall  I despatch  this  knave,  my  liege  ? ” cried  Suffolk, 
pointing  with  his  sword  to  Fenwolf. 

44  By  no  means,”  said  the  king ; 44  something  may  be 
learnt  from  him.  Hark  thee,  thou  felon  hound, — if  thou 
indeed  servest  the  fiend,  thou  seest  he  deserts  thee,  as  he 
does  all  who  put  faith  in  him.” 

44 1 see  it,”  replied  Fenwolf,  who,  finding  resistance  vain, 
had  folded  his  hands  doggedly  upon  his  breast. 

44  Then  confess  thy  evil  practises,”  said  the  king. 

44  Give  me  my  life,  and  I will,”  replied  Fenwolf.  And 
as  he  uttered  the  words,  he  caught  sight  of  the  dark 
figure  of  Herne,  stationed  at  the  side  of  the  oak,  with  its 
right  arm  raised  menacingly. 


162 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ What  seest  thou  ? ” cried  Henry,  remarking  his  fixed 
gaze  towards  the  tree,  and  glancing  in  that  direction. 

Fenwolf  made  no  reply. 

Henry  went  up  to  the  tree,  and  walked  round  it,  but  he 
could  see  nothing. 

“ I will  scour  the  forest  to-morrow,”  he  muttered,  44  and 
hang  every  knave  I find  within  it  who  cannot  give  a good 
account  of  himself.” 

“ Ho ! ho ! ho ! ” laughed  a voice,  which  seemed  to 
proceed  from  the  branches  of  the  tree. 

Henry  looked  up,  but  no  one  was  visible. 

44  God’s  death ! — derided ! ” he  roared.  “ Man  or  devil, 
thou  shalt  feel  my  wrath.” 

“ Ho  ! ho ! ho ! ” again  laughed  the  voice. 

Stamping  with  rage,  Henry  swore  a great  oath,  and 
smote  the  trunk  of  the  tree  with  his  sword. 

44  Your  majesty  will  search  in  vain,”  said  Suffolk;  44 it 
is  clearly  the  fiend  with  whom  you  have  to  deal,  and  the 
aid  of  holy  priests  must  be  obtained  to  drive  him  from 
the  forest.” 

44  Ho ! ho  ! ho ! ” again  laughed  the  voice. 

A party  of  horsemen  now  appeared  in  view.  They 
proved  to  be  the  royal  attendants,  who  had  ridden  forward 
in  search  of  the  king,  and  were  instantly  hailed  by  Henry 
and  Suffolk.  They  were  headed  by  Captain  Bouchier, 
who  at  a sign  from  the  king  instantly  dismounted. 

44  Give  me  your  horse,  Bouchier,”  said  Henry, 44  and  do 
you  and  half  a dozen  of  your  men  remain  on  guard  at  this 
tree  till  I send  a troop  of  arquebusiers  to  relieve  you. 
When  they  arrive,  station  them  near  it,  and  let  them 
remain  here  till  I return  in  the  morning.  If  any  one 
appears,  make  him  a prisoner.” 

44  Your  majesty’s  orders  shall  be  faithfully  obeyed,”  re- 
plied Bouchier. 

Bound  hand  and  foot,  Fenwolf  was  thrown  upon  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


163 


back  of  a horse,  and  guarded  by  two  halberdiers,  who 
were  prepared  to  strike  him  dead  on  the  slightest  move- 
ment. In  this  way,  he  was  conveyed  to  the  castle,  and 
placed  in  the  guard-chamber  of  the  lower  gate,  till  further 
orders  should  be  issued  respecting  him. 


164 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SHOWING  HOW  MORGAN  FENWOLF  ESCAPED  F&OM  THE 
GARTER  TOWER. 

Half- an-hour  afterwards,  Fenwolf  was  visited  by  the 
Duke  of  Suffolk  and  a canon  of  the  college ; and  the 
guard-chamber  being  cleared,  the  duke  enjoined  him  to 
make  clear  his  bosom  by  confession. 

“ I hold  it  my  duty  to  tell  you,  prisoner,”  said  Suffolk, 
“ that  there  is  no  hope  of  your  life.  The  king’s  highness 
is  determined  to  make  a fearful  example  of  you  and  all 
your  companions  in  crime ; but  he  does  not  seek  to  de- 
stroy your  soul,  and  has  therefore  sent  this  holy  man  to 
you,  with  the  desire  that  you  may  open  y our  heart  to 
him,  and  by  confession  and  repentance  save  yourself  from 
eternal  perdition.” 

“ Confession  will  profit  me  nothing,”  said  Fenwolf, 
moodily.  “ I cannot  pray  if  I would.” 

“ You  cannot  be  so  utterly  lost,  my  son,”  rejoined  the 
canon.  “ Hell  may  have  woven  her  dark  chains  round 
you,  but  not  so  firmly  but  that  the  hand  of  Heaven  can 
burst  them.” 

“ You  waste  time  is  seeking  to  persuade  me,”  returned 
Fenwolf. 

“ You  are  not  ignorant  of  the  punishment  inflicted  upon 
those  condemned  for  sorcery,  my  son?”  demanded  the 
canon. 

“ It  is  the  stake,  is  it  not  ? ” replied  Fenwolf. 

“ Ay,”  replied  the  canon ; “ but  even  that  fiery  trial 
will  fail  to  purge  out  your  offenses  without  penitence. 
My  lord  of  Suffolk,  this  wretched  man’s  condition  de- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


165 


mands  special  attention.  It  will  profit  the  church  much 
to  win  his  soul  from  the  fiend.  Let  him,  I pray  you,  be 
removed  to  the  dungeon  beneath  the  Garter  Tower,  where 
a priest  shall  visit  him,  and  pray  by  his  side  till  day- 
break.” 

44  It  will  be  useless,  father,”  said  Fenwolf. 

44  I do  not  despair,  my  son,”  replied  the  canon ; 44  and 
when  I see  you  again  in  the  morning,  I trust  to  find  you 
in  a better  frame  of  mind.” 

The  duke  then  gave  directions  to  the  guard  to  remove 
the  prisoner ; and  after  some  further  conference  with  the 
canon,  returned  to  the  royal  apartments. 

Meanwhile,  the  canon  shaped  his  course  towards  the 
Horse-shoe  cloisters, — a range  of  buildings  so  designated 
from  their  form,  and  situated  at  the  west-end  of  St. 
George’s  chapel,  and  he  had  scarcely  entered  them,  when 
he  heard  footsteps  behind  him,  and  turning  at  the  sound, 
beheld  a Franciscan  friar,  for  so  his  habit  of  the  coarsest 
gray  cloth,  tied  with  a cord  round  the  waist,  proclaimed 
him.  The  friar  was  very  tall  and  gaunt,  and  his  cowl 
was  drawn  over  his  face  so  as  to  conceal  his  features. 

44 What  would  you,  brother?”  inquired  the  canon, 
halting. 

44 1 have  a request  to  make  of  you,  reverend  sir,”  re- 
plied the  friar,  with  a lowly  inclination  of  the  head.  44 1 
have  just  arrived  from  Chertsey  Abbey,  whither  I have 
been  tarrying  for  the  last  three  days,  and  while  convers- 
ing with  the  guard  at  the  gate,  I saw  a prisoner  brought 
into  the  castle,  charged  with  heinous  offenses,  and  amongst 
others,  with  dealings  with  the  fiend.” 

44  You  have  been  rightly  informed,  brother,”  rejoined 
the  canon. 

44  And  have  I,  also,  been  rightly  informed  that  you  de- 
sire a priest  to  pass  the  night  with  him,  reverend  sir  ? ” 
returned  the  friar.  44  If  so,  I would  crave  permission  to 


166 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


undertake  the  office.  Two  souls,  as  deeply  laden  as  that 
of  this  poor  wretch,  have  been  snatched  from  the  jaws  of 
Satan  by  my  efforts,  and  I do  not  despair  of  success 
now.” 

“ Since  you  are  so  confident,  brother,”  said  the  canon, 
“ I commit  him  readily  to  your  hands.  I was  about  to 
seek  other  aid,  but  your  offer  comes  opportunely.  With 
Heaven’s  help,  I doubt  not  you  will  achieve  a victory  over 
the  evil  one.” 

As  the  latter  words  were  uttered,  a sudden  pain  seemed 
to  seize  the  friar.  Staggering  slightly,  he  caught  at  the 
railing  of  the  cloisters  for  support,  but  he  instantly  re- 
covered himself. 

“ It  is  nothing,  reverend  sir,”  he  said,  seeing  that  the 
good  canon  regarded  him  anxiously.  “ Long  vigils  and 
fasting  have  made  me  liable  to  frequent  attacks  of  giddi- 
ness, but  they  pass  as  quickly  as  they  come.  Will  it 
please  you  to  go  with  me,  and  direct  the  guard  to  admit 
me  to  the  prisoner  ? ” 

The  canon  assented ; and  crossing  the  quadrangle,  they 
returned  to  the  gateway. 

Meanwhile,  the  prisoner  had  been  removed  to  the 
lower  chamber  of  the  Garter  Tower.  This  fortification 
one  of  the  oldest  in  the  Castle,  being  coeval  with  the  Cur- 
few Tower,  is  now  in  a state  of  grievous  neglect  and  ruin. 
Unroofed,  unfloored,  filled  with  rubbish,  masked  by  the 
yard  walls  of  the  adjoining  habitations,  with  one  side  en- 
tirely pulled  down,  and  a great  breach  in  front,  it  is 
solely  owing  to  the  solid  and  rock-like  construction  of  its 
masonry,  that  it  is  indebted  for  partial  preservation. 
Still,  notwithstanding  its  dilapidated  condition,  and  that 
it  is  the  mere  shell  of  its  former  self,  its  appearance  is 
highly  picturesque.  The  walls  are  of  prodigious  thickness, 
and  the  deep  embrasures  within  them  are  almost  perfect ; 
while  a secret  staircase  may  still  be  tracked  partly  round 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


167 


the  building.  Amid  the  rubbish  choking  up  its  lower 
chamber,  grows  a young  tree,  green  and  flourishing — a 
type,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  of  the  restoration  of  the 
structure ! 

Conducted  to  a low  vaulted  chamber  in  this  tower,  the 
prisoner  was  cast  upon  its  floor — for  he  was  still  bound 
hand  and  foot — and  left  alone  and  in  darkness.  But  he 
was  not  destined  to  continue  in  this  state  long.  The  door 
of  the  dungeon  opened,  and  the  guard  ushered  in  the 
tall  Franciscan  friar. 

44  What  ho ! dog  of  a prisoner,”  he  cried,  “ here  is  a holy 
man  come  to  pass  the  night  with  you  in  prayer. 

44  He  may  take  his  Ave  Maries  and  Paternosters  else- 
where— I want  them  not,”  replied  Fenwolf,  moodily. 

44  You  would  prefer  my  bringing  Herne  the  hunter,  no 
doubt,”  rejoined  the  guard,  laughing  at  his  own  jest; 
44  but  this  is  a physician  for  your  soul.  The  saints  help 
you  in  your  good  work,  father.  You  will  have  no  easy 
task.” 

44  Set  down  the  light,  my  son,”  cried  the  friar,  harshly, 
44  and  leave  us.  My  task  will  be  easily  accomplished.” 

Placing  the  lamp  on  the  stone  floor  of  the  dungeon,  the 
guard  withdrew,  and  locked  the  door  after  him. 

44  Do  you  repent,  my  son  ? ” demanded  the  friar,  as  soon 
as  they  were  alone. 

44  Certes,  I repent  having  put  faith  in  a treacherous 
fiend  who  has  deserted  me, — but  that  is  all,”  replied  Fen- 
wolf, with  his  face  turned  to  the  ground. 

44  Will  you  put  faith  in  me  if  I promise  you  deliver- 
ance ? ” demanded  the  friar. 

44  You  promise  more  than  you  can  perform,  as  most  of 
your  brethren  do,”  rejoined  the  other. 

44  You  will  not  say  so  if  you  look  up,”  said  the  friar, 

Fenwolf  started  at  the  words,  which  were  pronounced 
in  a different  voice  from  that  previously  adopted  by  the 


168 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


speaker,  and  raised  himself  as  far  as  his  bonds  would  per- 
mit him.  The  friar  had  thrown  back  his  cowl,  and  dis- 
closed features  of  appalling  hideousness,  lighted  up  by  a 
diabolical  grin. 

“ You  here ! ” cried  Fenwolf. 

“ You  doubted  me,”  rejoined  Herne  ; “but  I never  de- 
sert a follower.  Besides,  I wish  to  show  the  royal  Harry 
that  my  power  is  equal  to  his  own.” 

“ But  how  are  we  to  get  out  of  this  dungeon  ? ” asked 
Fenwolf,  gazing  round  apprehensively. 

“ My  way  out  will  be  easy  enough,”  replied  Herne ; 
“ but  your  escape  is  attended  with  more  difficulty.  You 
remember  how  we  went  to  the  vaulted  chamber,  in  the 
Curfew  Tower,  on  the  night  when  Mark  Fytton,  the 
butcher,  was  confined  within  it.” 

“ I do,”  replied  Fenwolf.  “ But  I can  think  of  nothing 
while  I am  tied  thus.” 

Herne  instantly  drew  forth  a hunting-knife,  and  cutting 
Fenwolf s bonds  asunder,  the  latter  started  to  his  feet. 

“ If  that  bull-headed  butcher  would  have  joined  me  I 
would  have  liberated  him,  as  I am  about  to  liberate  you,” 
pursued  Herne.  “ But  to  return  to  the  matter  in  hand. 
You  recollect  the  secret  passage  we  then  tracked  ? There 
is  such  another  staircase  in  this  tower.” 

And,  stepping  to  the  further  side  of  the  chamber, 
he  touched  a small  knob  in  the  wall,  and  a stone  flew 
back,  disclosing  an  aperture  just  large  enough  to  allow  a 
man  to  pass  through  it. 

“ There  is  your  road  to  freedom,”  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  hole  ; “ creep  along  that  narrow  passage,  and  it  will 
bring  you  to  a small  loophole  in  the  wall,  not  many  feet 
from  the  ground.  The  loophole  is  guarded  by  a bar  of 
iron,  but  it  is  moved  by  a spring  in  the  upper  part  of  the 
stone  in  which  it  appears  to  be  mortised.  This  impedi- 
ment removed,  you  will  easily  force  your  way  through 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


169 


the  loophole.  Drop  cautiously,  for  fear  of  the  sentinels 
on  the  walls  ; then  make  your  way  to  the  forest,  and  if 
you  ’scape  the  arquebusiers  who  are  scouring  it,  conceal 
yourself  in  the  sandstone  cave  below  the  beech- tree.” 

“ And  what  of  you  ? ” asked  Fenwolf. 

“ I have  more  to  do  here,”  replied  Herne,  impatiently — 
“ away ! ” 

Thus  dismissed,  Fenwolf  entered  the  aperture,  which 
was  instantly  closed  after  him  by  Herne.  Carefully  fol- 
lowing the  instructions  of  his  leader,  the  keeper  passed 
through  the  loophole,  let  himself  drop  softly  down,  and 
keeping  close  to  the  walls  of  the  tower  till  he  heard  the 
sentinels  move  off,  darted  swiftly  across  the  street  and 
made  good  his  escape. 

Meanwhile,  Herne  drew  the  cowl  over  his  head,  and 
stepping  to  the  door,  knocked  loudly  against  it. 

“What  would  you,  father?”  cried  the  guard,  from 
without. 

“ Enter,  my  son,  and  you  shall  know,”  replied  Herne. 

The  next  moment,  the  door  was  unlocked  and  the 
guard  advanced  into  the  dungeon. 

“ Ha ! ” he  exclaimed,  snatching  up  the  lamp  and  look- 
ing round — “ where  is  the  prisoner  ? ” 

“ Gone,”  replied  Herne. 

“What!  has  the  fiend  flown  away  with  him?”  cried 
the  man,  in  mixed  astonishment  and  alarm. 

“ He  has  been  set  free  by  Herne  the  hunter ! ” cried 
the  demon.  “ Tell  all  who  question  thee  so,  and  relate 
what  thou  now  seest.” 

At  the  words,  a bright  blue  flame  illumined  the  cham- 
ber, in  the  midst  of  which  was  seen  the  tall  dark  figure  of 
Herne.  His  Franciscan’s  gown  had  dropped  to  his  feet, 
and  he  appeared  habited  in  his  wild  deerskin  garb. 
With  a loud  cry,  the  guard  fell  senseless  on  the  ground. 

A few  minutes  after  this,  as  was  subsequently  ascer- 


170 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


tained,  a tall  Franciscan  friar  threaded  the  cloisters  be- 
hind Saint  George’s  Chapel,  and  giving  the  word  to  the 
sentinels,  passed  through  the  outer  door  communicating 
with  the  steep  descent  leading  to  the  town. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE 


171 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOW  HERNE  THE  HUNTER  WAS  HIMSELF  HUNTED. 

On  the  guard’s  recovery,  information  of  what  had  oc- 
curred was  immediately  conveyed  to  the  king,  who  had 
not  yet  retired  to  rest,  but  was  sitting  in  his  private 
chamber  with  the  Dukes  of  Suffolk  and  Norfolk.  The  in- 
telligence threw  him  into  a great  fury ; he  buffeted  the 
guard,  and  ordered  him  to  be  locked  up  in  the  dungeon 
whence  the  prisoner  had  escaped ; reprimanded  the  canon ; 
directed  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  with  a patrol,  to  make  search 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  castle  for  the  fugitive  and 
the  friar;  and  bade  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  get  together  a 
band  of  arquebusiers ; and  as  soon  as  the  latter  were  as- 
sembled, he  put  himself  at  their  head,  and  again  rode  into 
the  forest. 

The  cavalcade  had  proceeded  about  a mile  along  the 
great  avenue,  when  one  of  the  arquebusiers  rode  up  and 
said  that  he  heard  some  distant  sounds  on  the  right. 
Commanding  a halt,  Henry  listened  for  a moment,  and, 
satisfied  that  the  man  was  right,  quitted  the  course  he 
was  pursuing,  and  dashed  across  the  broad  glade  now 
traversed  by  the  avenue  called  Queen  Anne’s  Ride.  As 
he  advanced,  the  rapid  trampling  of  horses  was  heard, 
accompanied  by  shouts,  and  presently  afterwards,  a troop 
of  wild-looking  horsemen  in  fantastic  garbs  was  seen 
galloping  down  the  hill,  pursued  by  Bouchier  and  his 
followers.  The  king  immediately  shaped  his  course  so  as 
to  intercept  the  flying  party,  and  being  in  some  measure 
screened  by  the  trees,  he  burst  unexpectedly  upon  them 
at  a turn  of  the  road. 

Henry  called  to  the  fugitives  to  surrender,  but  they 


172 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


refused,  and  brandishing  their  long  knives  and  spears, 
made  a desperate  resistance.  But  they  were  speedily  sur- 
rounded and  overpowered.  Bouchier  inquired  from  the 
king  what  should  be  done  with  the  prisoners. 

“ Hang  them  all  upon  yon  trees ! ” cried  Henry,  point- 
ing to  two  sister  oaks  which  stood  near  the  scene  of  strife. 

The  terrible  sentence  was  immediately  carried  into  ex- 
ecution. Cords  were  produced,  and  in  less  than  half  an 
hour  twenty  breathless  bodies  were  swinging  from  the 
branches  of  the  two  trees  indicated  by  the  king. 

“ This  will  serve  to  deter  others  from  like  offenses,” 
observed  Henry,  who  had  watched  the  whole  proceedings 
with  savage  satisfaction.  44  And  now,  Bouchier,  how  came 
you  to  let  the  leader  of  these  villains  escape  ? ” 

“I  did  not  know  he  had  escaped,  my  liege,”  replied 
Bouchier,  in  astonishment. 

44 Yea,  marry,  but  he  has  escaped,”  rejoined  Henry; 
44  and  he  has  had  the  audacity  to  show  himself  in  the  castle 
within  this  hour,  and  the  cunning,  moreover,  to  set  the 
prisoner  free.” 

And  he  proceeded  to  relate  what  had  occurred. 

44  This  is  strange,  indeed,  my  liege,”  replied  Bouchier, 
at  the  close  of  the  king’s  recital ; 44  and  to  my  thinking  is 
proof  convincing  that  we  have  to  do  with  a supernatural 
being.” 

44  Supernatural ! — pshaw — banish  the  idle  notion,”  re- 
joined Henry,  sternly.  44  We  are  all  the  dupes  of  some 
jugglery.  The  caitiff  will  doubtless  return  to  the  forest. 
Continue  your  search,  therefore,  for  him  throughout  the 
night.  If  you  catch  him,  I promise  you  a royal  reward.” 

So  saying,  he  rode  back  to  the  castle,  somewhat  appeased 
by  the  wholesale  vengeance  he  had  taken  upon  the  offen- 
ders. 

In  obedience  to  the  orders  he  had  received,  Bouchier 
with  his  followers  continued  riding  about  the  forest,  dur- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


173 


ing  the  whole  night,  but  without  finding  anything  to  re- 
ward his  search  until  about  dawn  it  occurred  to  him  to  re- 
turn to  the  trees  on  which  the  bodies  were  suspended.  As 
he  approached  them,  he  fancied  he  beheld  a horse  standing 
beneath  the  nearest  tree,  and  immediately  ordered  his 
followers  to  proceed  as  noiselessly  as  possible,  and  to  keep 
under  the  cover  of  the  wood.  A nearer  advance  convinced 
him  that  his  eyes  had  not  deceived  him.  It  was  a swart, 
wild-looking  horse  that  he  beheld,  with  eyes  that  flamed 
like  carbuncles,  while  a couple  of  bodies,  evidently  snatched 
from  the  branches,  were  laid  across  its  back.  A glance 
at  the  trees,  too,  showed  Bouchier  that  they  had  been 
considerably  lightened  of  their  hideous  spoil. 

Seeing  this,  Bouchier  dashed  forward.  Alarmed  by  the 
noise,  the  wild  horse  neighed  loudly,  and  a dark  figure 
instantly  dropped  from  the  tree  upon  its  back,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  disencumber  it  of  its  load..  But  before  this 
could  be  accomplished,  a bolt  from  a crossbow,  shot  by 
one  of  Bouchier ’s  followers,  pierced  the  animal’s  brain. 
Rearing  aloft,  it  fell  backwards,  in  such  manner  as  would 
have  crushed  an  ordinary  rider,  but  Herne  slipped  off 
uninjured,  and  with  incredible  swiftness  darted  among 
the  trees.  The  others  started  in  pursuit,  and  a chase 
commenced,  in  which  the  demon  huntsman  had  to  sustain 
the  part  of  the  deer — nor  could  any  deer  have  afforded 
better  sport. 

Away  flew  the  pursued  and  pursuers  over  broad  glade 
and  through  tangled  glen — the  woods  resounding  with 
their  cries.  Bouchier  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  fugitive 
for  a moment,  and  urged  his  men  to  push  on  ; but  despite 
his  alternate  proffers  and  menaces,  they  gained  but  little 
on  Herne,  who,  speeding  towards  the  Home  Park,  cleared 
its  high  palings  with  a single  bound. 

Over  went  Bouchier  and  his  followers,  and  they  then 
descried  him  making  his  way  to  a large  oak,  standing 


174 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


almost  alone  in  the  center  of  a wide  glade.  An  instant 
afterwards,  he  reached  the  tree,  shook  his  arm  menacingly 
at  his  pursuers,  and  vanished. 

The  next  moment,  Bouchier  came  up ; flung  himself 
from  his  panting  steed,  and,  with  his  drawn  sword  in 
hand,  forced  himself  through  a rift  in  its  side,  into  the 
• tree.  There  was  a hollow  within  it  large  enough  to  allow 
a man  to  stand  upright,  and  two  funnel-like  holes  ran 
upwards  into  the  branches.  Finding  nothing,  Bouchier 
called  for  a hunting  spear,  and  thrust  it  as  far  as  he  could 
into  the  holes  above.  The  point  encountered  no  obstruc- 
tion expect  such  as  was  offered  by  the  wood  itself.  He 
stamped  upon  the  ground — and  sounded  it  on  all  sides 
with  the  spear,  but  with  no  better  success. 

Issuing  forth,  he  next  directed  his  attention  to  the 
upper  part  of  the  tree,  which,  while  he  was  occupied  in- 
side, had  been  carefully  watched  by  his  followers ; and 
not  content  with  viewing  it  from  below,  he  clambered 
into  the  branches.  But  they  had  nothing  to  show,  ex- 
cept their  own  leafy  covering. 

The  careful  examination  of  the  ground  about  the  tree 
at  length  led  to  the  discovery  of  a small  hole  among  its 
roots,  about  half  a dozen  yards  from  the  trunk,  and  though 
this  hole  seemed  scarcely  large  enough  to  serve  for  an 
entrance  to  the  burrow  of  a fox,  Bouchier  deemed  it  ex- 
pedient to  keep  a careful  watch  over  it. 

His  investigation  completed,  he  despatched  a sergeant 
of  the  guard  to  the  castle,  to  acquaint  the  king  with  what 
had  occurred. 

Disturbed  by  the  events  of  the  night,  Henry  obtained 
little  sleep,  and  at  an  early  hour,  summoned  an  attendant, 
and  demanded  whether  there  were  any  tidings  from  the 
forest.  The  attendant  replied  that  a sergeant  of  the  guard 
was  without,  sent  by  Captain  Bouchier,  with  a message  for 
his  majesty.  The  sergeant  w^as  immediately  admitted  to 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


175 


the  royal  presence,  and  on  the  close  of  his  marvelous 
story,  the  king,  who  had  worked  himself  into  a tremendous 
fury  during  its  relation,  roared  out — 

“ What ! foiled  again — ha  ! But  he  shall  not  escape,  if 
I have  to  root  up  half  the  trees  in  the  forest.  Bouchier 
and  his  fellows  must  be  bewitched.  Harkye,  knaves,  get 
together  a dozen  of  the  best  woodmen  and  yeomen  in  the 
castle — instantly,  as  you  value  your  lives — bid  them  bring 
axe  and  saw,  pick  and  spade.  D’ye  mark  me — ha ! Stay, 
I have  not  done.  I must  have  fagots  and  straw,  for  I will 
burn  this  tree  to  the  ground, — burn  it  to  a char.  Summon 
the  Dukes  of  Suffolk  and  Norfolk — the  rascal  archer  I 
dubbed  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch,  and  his  mates — the 
keepers  of  the  forest  and  their  hounds — summon  them 
quickly,  and  bid  a band  of  the  yeomen  of  the  guard  get 
ready.”  And  he  sprang  from  his  couch. 

The  king’s  commands  were  executed  with  such  alacrity, 
that  by  the  time  he  was  fully  attired,  the  whole  of  the 
persons  he  had  ordered  to  be  summoned  were  assembled. 
Putting  himself  at  their  head,  he  rode  forth  to  the  Home 
Park,  and  found  Bouchier  and  his  followers  grouped 
around  the  tree. 

“ We  are  still  at  fault,  my  liege,”  said  Bouchier. 

“ So  I see,  sir,”  replied  the  king,  angrily.  “ Hew  down 
the  tree  instantly,  knaves,”  he  added  to  the  woodmen. 
“ Fall  to,— fall  to.” 

Ropes  were  then  fastened  to  the  head  of  the  tree,  and 
the  welkin  resounded  with  the  rapid  strokes  of  the 
hatchets.  It  was  a task  of  some  difficulty,  but  such  zeal 
and  energy  were  displayed  by  the  woodmen,  that,  ere 
long,  the  giant  trunk  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground.  Its 
hollows  were  now  fully  exposed  to  view,  but  they  were 
empty. 

“ Set  fire  to  the  accursed  piece  of  timber  ! ” roared  the 
king — “ burn  it  to  dust,  and  scatter  it  to  the  wind.” 


176 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


At  these  orders,  two  yeomen  of  the  guard  advanced, 
and,  throwing  down  a heap  of  fagots,  straw,  and  other 
combustibles,  on  the  roots  of  the  tree,  soon  kindled  a 
fierce  fire. 

Meanwhile,  a couple  of  woodmen,  stripped  of  their 
jerkins,  and  with  their  brawny  arms  bared  to  the  shoulder, 
mounted  on  the  trunk,  and  strove  to  split  it  asunder. 
Some  of  the  keepers  likewise  got  into  the  branches,  and 
peered  into  every  crack  and  crevice,  in  the  hope  of  making 
some  discovery.  Amongst  the  latter  was  Will  Sommers, 
who  had  posted  himself  near  a great  arm  of  the  tree, 
which  he  maintained,  when  lopped  off,  would  be  found 
to  contain  the  demon. 

Nor  were  other  expedients  neglected.  A fierce  hound 
had  been  sent  into  the  hole  near  the  roots  of  the  tree,  by 
Gabriel  Lapp,  but  after  a short  absence  here  turned  howl- 
ing and  terrified ; nor  could  all  the  efforts  of  Gabriel, 
seconded  by  a severe  scourging  with  his  heavy  dog- whip, 
induce  him  to  enter  it  again. 

When  the  hound  had  come  forth,  a couple  of  yeomen 
advanced  to  enlarge  the  opening,  while  a third  with  a 
pick  endeavored  to  remove  the  root,  which  formed  an 
impediment  to  their  efforts. 

“ They  may  dig,  but  they’ll  never  catch  him,”  observed 
Shoreditch,  who  stood  by,  to  his  companions.  “ Hunting 
a spirit  is  not  the  same  thing  as  training  and  raising  a 
wolf,  or  earthing  and  digging  out  a badger.” 

“ Not  so  loud,  duke,”  said  Islington,  “his  majesty  may 
think  thy  jest  irreverent.” 

“ I have  an  arrow  blessed  by  a priest,”  said  Paddington, 
“ which  I shall  let  fly  at  the  spirit,  if  he  appears.” 

“ Here  he  is  ! here  he  is  ! ” cried  Will  Sommers,  as  a 
great  white  horned  owl,  which  had  been  concealed  in 
some  part  of  the  tree,  flew  forth. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


177 


“ It  may  be  the  demon  in  that  form — shoot ! — shoot ! ” 
cried  Shoreditch. 

Paddington  bent  his  bow.  The  arrow  whistled  through 
the  air,  and  in  another  moment  the  owl  fell  fluttering  to 
the  ground  completely  transfixed ; but  it  underwent  no 
change,  as  was  expected  by  the  credulous  archer. 

Meanwhile,  the  fire,  being  kept  constantly  supplied 
with  fresh  fagots,  and  stirred  by  the  yeomen  of  the 
guard,  burnt  bravely.  The  lower  part  of  the  tree  was 
already  consumed,  and  the  flames,  roaring  through  the 
hollow  within,  with  a sound  like  that  of  a furnace,  prom- 
ised soon  to  reduce  it  to  charcoal. 

The  mouth  of  the  hole  having  now  been  widened,  an- 
other keeper,  who  had  brought  forward  a couple  of 
lurchers,  sent  them  into  it ; but  in  a few  moments  they 
returned,  as  the  hound  had  done,  howling,  and  with 
scared  looks.  Without  heeding  their  enraged  master, 
they  ran  off  with  their  tails  between  their  legs,  towards 
the  castle. 

“ I see  how  it  is,  Rufus,”  said  Gabriel,  patting  his 
hound,  who  looked  wistfully  and  half-reproachfully  at 
him.  “ Thou  wert  not  to  blame,  poor  fellow  ! The  best 
dog  that  ever  was  whelped  cannot  be  expected  to  face  the 
devil.” 

Though  long  ere  this  it  had  become  the  general  opinion 
that  it  was  useless  to  persevere  further  in  the  search,  the 
king,  with  his  characteristic  obstinacy,  would  not  give  it 
up.  In  due  time,  the  whole  of  the  trunk  of  the  enormous 
tree  was  consumed,  and  its  branches  cast  into  the  fire. 
The  roots  were  rent  from  the  ground,  and  a wide  and 
deep  trench  digged  around  the  spot.  The  course  of 
the  hole  was  traced  for  some  distance,  but  it  was  never  of 
any  size,  and  was  suddenly  lost  by  the  falling  in  of  the 
earth. 

At  length,  after  five  hours’  watching,  Henry’s  patience 


178 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


was  exhausted,  and  he  ordered  the  pit  to  be  filled  up,  and 
every  crevice  and  fissure  in  the  ground  about,  to  be  care- 
fully stopped. 

“If  we  cannot  unkennel  the  fox,”  he  said,  “ we  will  at 
least  earth  him  up.” 

“ For  all  your  care,  gossip  Henry,”  muttered  Will  Som- 
mers, as  he  rode  after  his  royal  master  to  the  castle,  “ the 
fox  will  work  his  way  out.” 

i$bus  ends  tbe  SeconO  JSooh  of  tbe  Chronicle  of 
■WUnbgor  Castle. 


Sooft  tbe  tlbirb. 


CARDINAL  WOLSEY, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


181 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  THE  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN  HENRY  AND  CATHERINE  OF 

ARAGON  IN  THE  URSWICK  CHAPEL  ; AND  HOW  IT  WAS 

INTERRUPTED. 

It  was  now  the  joyous  month  of  June ; and  where  is 
June  so  joyous  as  within  the  courts  and  halls  of  peer- 
less Windsor?  Where  does  the  summer  sun  shine  so 
brightly  as  upon  its  stately  gardens  and  broad  terraces, 
its  matchless  parks,  its  silver  belting  river,  and  its  cir- 
cumference of  proud  and  regal  towers  ? Nowhere  in  the 
world.  At  all  seasons,  Windsor  is  magnificent ; whether, 
in  winter,  she  looks  upon  her  garniture  of  woods  stripped 
of  their  foliage — her  river  covered  with  ice — or  the  wide 
expanse  of  country  around  her,  sheeted  with  snow — or,  in 
autumn,  gazes  on  the  same  scene — a world  of  golden- 
tinted  leaves,  brown  meadows,  or  glowing  corn-fields. 
But  summer  is  her  season  of  beauty — June  is  the  month 
when  her  woods  are  fullest  and  greenest;  when  her 
groves  are  shadiest ; her  avenues  most  delicious ; when 
her  river  sparkles  like  a diamond  zone ; when  town  and 
village,  mansion  and  cot,  church  and  tower,  hill  and  vale, 
the  distant  capital  itself — all  within  view — are  seen  to 
the  highest  advantage.  At  such  a season,  it  is  impossible 
to  behold  from  afar  the  heights  of  Windsor,  crowned,  like 
the  Phrygian  goddess,  by  a castled  diadem,  and  backed 
by  lordly  woods,  and  withhold  a burst  of  enthusiasm  and 
delight.  And  it  is  equally  impossible,  at  such  a season, 
to  stand  on  the  grand  northern  terrace  and  gaze  first  at 
the  proud  pile  enshrining  the  sovereign  mistress  of  the 


182 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


land,  and  then  gaze  on  the  unequaled  prospect  spread 
out  before  it,  embracing  in  its  wide  range  every  kind  of 
beauty  that  the  country  can  boast,  and  not  be  struck  with 
the  thought  that  the  perfect  and  majestic  castle — 

In  state  as  wholesome  as  in  state  ’tis  fit, 

Worthy  the  owner,  and  the  owner  it, — 

together  with  the  wide,  and  smiling,  and  populous  district 
around  it,  form  an  apt  representation  of  the  British 
sovereign  and  her  dominions.  There  stands  the  castle, 
dating  back  as  far  as  the  Conquest,  and  boasting  since  its 
foundation  a succession  of  royal  inmates,  while  at  its  foot 
lies  a region  of  unequaled  fertility  and  beauty — full  of 
happy  homes  and  loving,  loyal  hearts — a miniature  of  the 
whole  country  and  its  inhabitants.  What  though  the 
smiling  landscape  may  be  darkened  by  a passing  cloud ! 
— what  though  a momentary  gloom  may  gather  round 
the  august  brow  of  the  proud  pile  ! — the  cloud  will 
speedily  vanish — the  gloom  disperse — and  the  bright  and 
sunny  scene  look  yet  brighter  and  sunnier  from  the  con- 
trast. 

It  was  the  chance  of  the  writer  of  these  lines  upon  one 
occasion  to  behold  his  sovereign  under  circumstances 
which  he  esteems  singularly  fortunate.  She  was  taking 
rapid  exercise  with  the  prince  upon  the  south  side  of  the 
garden-terrace.  All  at  once,  the  royal  pair  paused  at  the 
summit  of  the  ascent  leading  from  George  the  Fourth’s 
gateway.  The  prince  disappeared  along  the  eastern  ter- 
race, leaving  the  queen  alone.  And  there  she  stood,  her 
slight,  faultless  figure  sharply  defined  against  the  clear 
sky.  Nothing  was  wanting  to  complete  the  picture  ; the 
great  bay  windows  of  the  Victoria  Tower,  on  the  one 
hand — the  balustrade  of  the  terrace,  on  the  other — the 
Home  Park  beyond.  It  was  thrilling  to  feel  that  that 
small,  solitary  figure  comprehended  all  the  might  and 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  183 

majesty  of  England — and  a thousand  kindling  aspirations 
were  awakened  by  the  thought. 

But  it  was,  as  has  been  said,  the  merry  month  of  June 
and  Windsor  Castle  looked  down  in  all  its  magnificence 
upon  the  pomp  of  woods,  and  upon  the  twelve  fair  and 
smiling  counties  lying  within  its  ken.  A joyous  stir  was 
within  its  courts — the  gleam  of  arms  and  the  fluttering  of 
banners  was  seen  upon  its  battlements  and  towers,  and 
the  ringing  of  bells,  the  beating  of  drums,  and  the  fanfares 
of  trumpets,  mingled  with  the  shouting  of  crowds  and 
the  discharge  of  ordnance. 

Amidst  this  tumult,  a grave  procession  issued  from  the 
deanery,  and  took  its  way  across  the  lower  quadrangle, 
which  was  thronged  with  officers  and  men-at-arms,  in  the 
direction  of  the  lower  gate.  Just  as  it  arrived  there,  a 
distant  gun  was  heard,  and  an  answering  peal  was  in- 
stantly fired  from  the  culverins  of  the  Curfew  Tower, 
while  a broad  standard,  emblazoned  with  the  arms  of 
France  and  England  within  the  garter,  and  having  for 
supporters  the  English  lion,  crowned,  and  the  red  dragon, 
sinister,  was  reared  upon  the  keep.  All  these  prepara- 
tions betokened  the  approach  of  the  king,  who  was  return- 
ing to  the  castle,  after  six  weeks’  absence. 

Though  information  of  the  king’s  visit  to  the  castle  had 
only  preceded  him  by  a few  hours,  everything  was  ready 
for  his  reception — and  the  greatest  exertions  were  used 
to  give  splendor  to  it. 

In  spite  of  his  stubborn  and  tyrannical  nature,  Henry 
was  a popular  monarch,  and  never  showed  himself  before 
his  subjects  but  he  gained  their  applauses ; his  love  of 
pomp,  his  handsome  person,  and  manly  deportment,  al- 
ways winning  him  homage  from  the  multitude.  But  at 
no  period  was  he  in  a more  critical  position  than  the  pres- 
ent. The  meditated  divorce  from  Catherine  of  Aragon 
was  a step  which  found  no  sympathy  from  the  better 


184 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


portion  of  his  subjects,  while  the  ill-assorted  union  of 
Anne  Boleyn,  an  avowed  Lutheran,  which  it  was  known 
would  follow  it,  was  equally  objectionable.  The  seeds  of 
discontent  had  been  widely  sown  in  the  capital;  and 
tumults  had  occurred  which  though  promptly  checked, 
had  nevertheless  alarmed  the  king,  coupled  as  they  were 
with  the  disapprobation  of  his  ministers,  the  sneering  re- 
monstrances of  France,  the  menaces  of  the  Papal  see, 
and  the  open  hostilities  of  Spain.  But  the  characteristic 
obstinacy  of  his  nature  kept  him  firm  to  his  point,  and  he 
resolved  to  carry  it,  be  the  consequences  what  they  might. 

All  his  efforts  to  win  over  Campeggio  proved  fruitless. 
The  legate  was  deaf  to  his  menaces  or  promises,  well 
knowing  that  to  aid  Anne  Boleyn  would  be  to  seriously 
affect  the  interests  of  the  Church  of  Rome. 

The  affair,  however,  so  long  and  so  artfully  delayed, 
was  now  drawing  to  a close.  A court  was  appointed  by 
the  legates  to  be  holden  on  the  18th  of  June,  at  Black- 
friars,  to  try  the  question.  Gardiner  had  been  recalled 
from  Rome  to  act  as  counsel  for  Henry ; and  the  monarch, 
determining  to  appear  by  proxy  at  the  trial,  left  his  palace 
of  Bridewell  the  day  before  it  was  to  come  on,  and  set  out 
with  Anne  Boleyn  and  his  chief  attendants  for  Windsor 
Castle. 

Whatever  secret  feelings  might  be  entertained  against 
him,  Henry  was  received  by  the  inhabitants  of  Windsor 
with  every  demonstration  of  loyalty  and  affection. 
Deafening  shouts  rent  the  air  as  he  approached ; bless- 
ings and  good  wishes  were  showered  upon  him;  and 
hundred  of  caps  were  flung  into  the  air.  But  noticing 
that  Anne  Boleyn  was  received  with  evil  looks  and  in 
stern  silence,  and  construing  this  into  an  affront  to  him- 
self, Henry  not  only  made  slight  and  haughty  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  welcome  given  him,  but  looked  out  for 
some  pretext  to  manifest  his  displeasure.  Luckily  none 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  185 

was  afforded  him,  and  he  entered  the  castle  in  a sullen 
mood. 

The  day  was  spent  in  gentle  exercise  within  the  Home 
Park  and  on  the  terrace,  and  the  king  affected  the  utmost 
gaiety  and  indifference ; but  those  acquainted  with  him 
could  readily  perceive  he  was  ill  at  ease.  In  the  evening, 
he  remained  for  some  time  alone  in  his  closet  penning  de- 
spatches, and  then  summoning  an  attendant,  ordered  him 
to  bring  Captain  Bouchier  into  his  presence. 

66  Well,  Bouchier,”  he  said,  as  the  officer  made  his  ap- 
pearance, “ have  you  obeyed  my  instructions  in  regard  to 
Mabel  Lyndwood  ? ” 

“ I have,  my  liege,”  replied  Bouchier.  “ In  obedience 
to  your  majesty’s  commands,  immediately  after  your  ar- 
rival at  the  castle,  I rode  to  the  forester’s  hut,  and  ascer- 
tained that  the  damsel  was  still  there.” 

“And  looking  as  beautiful  as  ever,  I’ll  be  sworn!” 
said  the  king. 

“ It  was  the  first  time  I had  seen  her,  my  liege,”  replied 
Bouchier ; “ but  I do  not  think  she  could  have  ever  looked 
more  beautiful.” 

“ I am  well  assured  of  it,”  replied  Henry.  “ The  pres- 
sure of  affairs  during  my  absence  from  the  castle  had 
banished  her  image  from  my  mind  ; but  now  it  returns  as 
forcibly  as  before.  And  you  have  so  arranged  it  that  she 
will  be  brought  hither  to-morrow  night  ? ” 

Bouchier  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

“It  is  well,”  pursued  Henry;  “but  what  more? — for 
you  look  as  if  you  had  something  further  to  declare.” 

“Your  majesty  will  not  have  forgotten  how  you  exter- 
minated the  band  of  Herne  the  hunter  ? ” said  Bouchier. 

“ Mother  of  Heaven,  no  ! ” cried  the  king,  starting  up — 
“ I have  not  forgotten  it.  What  of  them  ? — ha  ! have  they 
come  to  life  again  ? — do  they  scour  the  parks  once  more  ? 
— That  were  indeed  a marvel ! ” 


186 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


44  What  I have  to  relate  is  almost  as  great  a marvel,' ” 
returned  Bouchier.  “ I have  not  heard  of  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  band,  though  for  aught  I know  it  may  have 
occurred.  But  Herne  has  been  seen  again  in  the  forest. 
Several  of  the  keepers  have  been  scared  by  him — travel- 
ers have  been  affrighted  and  plundered — and  no  one  will 
now  cross  the  Great  Park  after  nightfall.” 

“ Amazement ! ” cried  Henry,  again  seating  himself ; 
“ once  let  the  divorce  be  settled,  and  I will  effectually 
check  the  career  of  this  lawless  and  mysterious  being.” 

“ Pray  Heaven  your  majesty  may  be  able  to  do  so ! ” 
replied  Bouchier.  “ But  I have  always  been  of  opinion 
that  the  only  way  to  get  rid  of  the  demon  would  be  by 
the  aid  of  the  church.  He  is  unassailable  by  mortal 
weapons.” 

“ It  would  almost  seem  so,”  said  the  king.  “ And  yet 
I do  not  like  to  yield  to  the  notion.” 

“ I shrewdly  suspect  that  old  Tristram  Lyndwood,  the 
grand  sire  of  the  damsel  upon  whom  your  majesty  has 
deigned  to  cast  your  regards,  is  in  some  way  or  other 
leagued  with  Herne,”  said  Bouchier.  “ At  all  events,  I 
saw  him  with  a tall,  hideous- looking  personage,  whose 
name  I understood  to  be  Valentine  Hagthorne,  and  who, 
I feel  persuaded,  must  be  one  of  the  remnants  of  the 
demon-hunter’s  band.” 

“ Why  did  you  not  arrest  him  ? ” inquired  Henry. 

“ I did  not  like  to  do  so  without  your  majesty’s  author- 
ity,” replied  Bouchier.  44  Besides,  I could  scarcely  arrest 
Hagthorne  without  at  the  same  time  securing  the  old 
forester,  which  might  have  alarmed  the  damsel.  But  I 
am  ready  to  execute  your  injunctions  now.” 

44  Let  a party  of  men  go  in  search  of  Hagthorne  to- 
night,” replied  Henry ; 44  and  while  Mabel  is  brought  to 
the  castle  to-morrow,  do  you  arrest  old  Tristram,  and 
keep  him  in  custody  till  I have  leisure  to  examine  him.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  187 

“ It  shall  be  done  as  you  desire,  my  liege,”  replied  Bou- 
chier,  bowing  and  departing. 

Shortly  after  this,  Henry,  accompanied  by  Anne  Bol- 
eyn,  proceeded  with  his  attendants  to  Saint  George’s 
Chapel,  and  heard  vespers  performed.  Just  as  he  was 
about  to  return,  an  usher  advanced  towards  him,  and 
making  a profound  reverence,  said  that  a masked  dame, 
whose  habiliments  proclaimed  her  of  the  highest  rank, 
craved  a moment’s  audience  of  him. 

“ Where  is  she  ? ” demanded  Henry. 

“ In  the  north  aisle,  an’  please  your  majesty,”  replied 
the  usher,  “ near  the  Urswick  chapel.  I told  her  that 
this  was  not  the  place  for  an  audience  of  your  majesty, 
nor  the  time  ; but  she  would  not  be  said  nay,  and  there- 
fore, at  the  risk  of  incurring  your  sovereign  displeasure, 
I have  ventured  to  proffer  her  request.” 

The  usher  omitted  to  state  that  his  chief  inducement 
to  incur  the  risk  was  a valuable  ring  given  him  by  the 
lady. 

“ Well,  I will  go  to  her,”  said  the  king.  “ I pray  you, 
excuse  me  for  a short  space,  fair  mistress,”  he  added,  to 
Anne  Boleyn. 

And  quitting  the  choir,  he  entered  the  northern  aisle, 
and  casting  his  eyes  down  the  line  of  noble  columns  by 
which  it  is  flanked,  and  seeing  no  one,  he  concluded  that 
the  lady  must  have  retired  into  the  Urswick  chapel.  And 
so  it  proved  ; for  on  reaching  this  exquisite  little  shrine, 
he  perceived  a tall,  masked  dame  within  it,  clad  in  robes 
of  the  richest  black  velvet.  As  he  entered  the  chapel, 
the  lady  advanced  towards  him,  and  throwing  herself 
on  her  knees,  removed  her  mask — disclosing  features 
stamped  with  sorrow  and  suffering,  but  still  retaining  an 
expression  of  the  greatest  dignity.  They  were  those  of 
Catherine  of  Aragon. 

Uttering  an  angry  exclamation,  Henry  turned  on  his 


188 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


heel,  and  would  have  left  her,  but  she  clung  to  the  skirts 

of  his  robe. 

“ Hear  me  a moment,  Henry — my  king — my  husband — 
one  single  moment — hear  me ! ” cried  Catherine,  in  tones 
of  such  passionate  anguish,  that  he  could  not  resist  the 
appeal. 

“ Be  brief,  then,  Kate,”  he  rejoined,  taking  her  hand 
to  raise  her. 

“ Blessings  on  you  for  the  word ! ” cried  the  queen,  cov- 
ering his  hand  with  kisses.  “I  am  indeed  your  own 
true  Kate — your  faithful,  loving,  lawful  wife ! ” 

“ Rise,  madam  ! ” cried  Henry,  coldly — “ this  posture 
beseems  not  Catherine  of  Aragon.” 

“I  obey  you  now  as  I have  ever  done,”  she  replied, 
rising ; “ though  if  I followed  the  prompting  of  my  heart, 
I should  not  quit  my  knees  till  I had  gained  my  suit.” 

“ You  have  done  wrong  in  coming  here,  Catherine,  at 
this  juncture,”  said  Henry,  “and  may  compel  me  to  some 
harsh  measure  which  I would  willingly  have  avoided.” 

“ No  one  knows  I am  here,”  replied  the  queen,  “ except 
two  faithful  attendants,  who  are  vowed  to  secrecy ; and 
I shall  depart  as  I came.” 

“ I am  glad  you  have  taken  these  precautions,”  replied 
Henry.  “ Now  speak  freely,  but  again  I must  bid  you 
be  brief.” 

“ I will  be  as  brief  as  I can,”  replied  the  queen  ; “ but 
I pray  you  bear  -with  me,  Henry,  if  I unhappily  weary 
you.  I am  full  of  misery  and  affliction,  and  never  was 
daughter  and  wife  of  king  wretched  as  I am.  Pity  me, 
Henry — pity  me  ! But  that  I restrain  myself,  I should 
pour  forth  my  soul  in  tears  before  you.  Oh,  Henry,  after 
twenty  years’  duty  and  love,  to  be  brought  to  this  un- 
speakable shame — to  be  cast  from  you  with  dishonor — 
to  be  supplanted  by  another — it  is  terrible ! ” 

“If  you  have  only  come  here  to  utter  reproaches, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  189 

madam,  I must  put  an  end  to  the  interview,”  said  Henry, 
frowning. 

“I  do  not  reproach  you,  Henry,”  replied  Catherine, 
meekly — “ I only  wish  to  show  you  the  depth  and  extent 
of  my  affection.  I only  implore  you  to  do  me  right  and 
justice — not  to  bring  shame  upon  me  to  cover  your  own 
wrongful  action.  Have  compassion  upon  the  princess, 
our  daughter — spare  her,  if  you  will  not  spare  me ! ” 

“You  sue  in  vain,  Catherine,”  replied  Henry.  “I 
lament  your  condition,  but  my  eyes  are  fully  opened  to 
the  sinful  state  in  which  I have  so  long  lived,  and  I am 
resolved  to  abandon  it.” 

“ An  unworthy  prevarication,”  replied  Catherine,  “ by 
which  you  seek  to  work  my  ruin,  and  accomplish  your 
union  with  Anne  Boleyn.  And  you  will  no  doubt  suc- 
ceed ; for  what  can  I,  a feeble  woman,  and  a stranger  in 
your  country,  do  to  prevent  it.  You  will  succeed,  I say — 
you  will  divorce  me,  and  place  her  upon  the  throne.  But 
mark  my  words,  Henry,  she  will  not  long  remain  there.” 

The  king  smiled  bitterly. 

“ She  will  bring  dishonor  upon  you,”  pursued  Catherine. 
“The  woman  who  has  no  regard  for  ties  so  sacred  as 
those  which  bind  us,  will  not  respect  other  obligations.” 

“No  more  of  this!”  cried  Henry.  “You  suffer  your 
resentment  to  carry  you  too  far.” 

“Too  far!”  exclaimed  Catherine.  “Too  far! — Is  to 
warn  you  that  you  are  about  to  take  a wanton  to  your 
bed — and  that  you  will  bitterly  repent  your  folly,  when 
too  late,  going  too  far?  It  is  my  duty,  Henry,  no  less  than 
my  desire,  thus  to  warn  you  ere  the  irrevocable  step  be 
taken.” 

“Have  you  said  all  you  wish  to  say,  madam?”  de- 
manded the  king. 

« No,  my  dear  liege,  not  a hundredth  part  of  what  my 
heart  prompts  me  to  utter,”  replied  Catherine.  “ I con- 


190 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


jure  you,  by  my  strong  and  tried  affection — by  the  ten- 
derness that  has  for  years  subsisted  between  us — by  your 
hopes  of  temporal  prosperity  and  spiritual  welfare — by  all 
you  hold  dear  and  sacred — to  pause  while  there  is  yet 
time.  Let  the  legates  meet  to-morrow — let  them  pro- 
nounce sentence  against  me — and  as  surely  as  those  fatal 
words  are  uttered,  my  heart  will  break.” 

“ Tut,  tut ! ” — exclaimed  Henry,  impatiently — 44  you  will 
live  many  years  in  happy  retirement.” 

44 1 will  die  as  I have  lived — a queen,”  replied  Catherine ; 
44  but  my  life  will  not  be  long.  Now  answer  me  truly — if 
Anne  Boleyn  plays  you  false ” 

44  She  never  will  play  me  false  ! ” interrupted  Henry. 

44 1 say,  if  she  does,”  pursued  Catherine,  44  and  you  are 
satisfied  of  her  guilt,  will  you  be  content  with  divorcing 
her  as  you  divorce  me  ? ” 

44  No,  by  my  father’s  head ! ” cried  Henry,  fiercely.  44  If 
such  a thing  were  to  happen,  which  I hold  impossible,  she 
should  expiate  her  offense  on  the  scaffold.” 

44  Give  me  your  hand  on  that,”  said  Catherine. 

44 1 give  you  my  hand  upon  it,”  he  replied. 

44  Enough,”  said  the  queen — 44  if  I cannot  have  right  and 
justice,  I shall  at  least  have  vengeance,  though  it  will 
come  when  I am  in  my  tomb.  But  it  will  come,  and  that 
is  sufficient.” 

44  This  is  the  frenzy  of  jealousy,  Catherine,”  said  Henry. 

44  No,  Henry  ; it  is  not  jealousy  replied  the  queen,  with 
dignity.  44  The  daughter  of  Ferdinand  of  Spain  and  Isabella 
of  Castile,  with  the  best  blood  of  Europe  in  her  veins,  would 
despise  herself  if  she  could  entertain  so  paltry  a feeling 
towards  one  born  so  much  beneath  her  as  Anne  Boleyn. 

44  As  you  will,  madam,”  rejoined  Henry.  44  It  is  time 
our  interview  terminated.” 

44 Not  yet,  Henry — for  the  love  of  Heaven,  not  yet!” 
implored  Catherine.  44  Obu  bethink  you  by  whom  we 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


191 


were  joined  together  ! — by  yonr  father,  Henry  the  Seventh 
— one  of  the  wisest  princes  that  ever  sat  upon  a throne ; 
and  by  the  sanction  of  my  own  father,  Ferdinand  the 
Fifth,  one  of  the  justest.  Would  they  have  sanctioned 
the  match  if  it  had  been  unlawful?  Were  they  desti- 
tute of  good  counselors?  Were  they  indifferent  to  the 
future  ? ” 

“ You  had  better  reserve  these  arguments  for  the  legates’ 
ears  to-morrow,  madam,”  said  Henry,  sternly. 

“ I shall  urge  them  there  with  all  the  force  I can,”  re- 
plied Catherine,  “ for  I will  leave  nought  untried  to  hin- 
der an  event  so  fraught  with  misery.  But  I feel  the  strug- 
gle will  be  hopeless.” 

“Then  why  make  it? ” rejoined  Henry. 

“ Because  it  is  due  to  you — to  myself — to  the  princess 
our  daughter — to  our  illustrious  progenitors — and  to  our 
people,  to  make  it,”  replied  Catherine.  “ I should  be  un- 
worthy to  be  your  consort  if  I acted  otherwise — and  I will 
never,  in  thought,  word,  or  deed,  do  aught  derogatory  to 
that  title.  You  may  divorce  me,  but  I will  never  assent  to 
it ; you  may  wed  Anne  Boleyn,  but  she  will  never  be  your 
lawful  spouse ; and  you  may  cast  me  from  your  palace, 
but  I will  never  go  willingly.” 

“I  know  you  to  be  contumacious,  madam,”  replied 
Henry.  “ And  now,  I pray  you,  resume  your  mask,  and 
withdraw.  What  I have  said  will  convince  you  that  your 
stay  is  useless.” 

“ I perceive  it,”  replied  Catherine.  “ Farewell,  Henry 
— farewell,  loved  husband  of  my  heart — farewell,  for- 
ever ! ” 

“Your  mask — your  mask,  madam!  ” cried  Henry,  im- 
patiently. “ God’s  death ! footsteps  are  approaching. 
Let  no  one  enter  here ! ” he  cried,  aioud. 

“ I will  come  in,”  cried  Anne  Boleyn,  stepping  into  the 
chapel,  just  as  Catherine  had  replaced  her  mask.  “Ah ! 


192 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


your  majesty  looks  confused.  I fear  I have  interrupted 
some  amorous  conference.” 

“ Come  with  me,  Anne,”  said  Henry,  taking  her  arm, 
and  trying  to  draw  her  away — “come  with  me.” 

“Not  till  I learn  who  your  lady-love  is,”  replied  Anne, 
pettishly.  “ You  affect  to  be  jealous  of  me,  my  liege,  but 
I have  much  more  reason  to  be  jealous  of  you.  When 
you  were  last  at  Windsor,  I heard  you  paid  a secret  visit 
to  a fair  maiden  near  the  lake  in  the  park,  and  now  you 
are  holding  an  interview  with  a masked  dame  here.  Nay, 
I care  not  for  your  gestures  of  silence.  I will  speak.” 

“ You  are  distraught,  sweetheart,”  cried  the  king. 
“ Come  away.” 

“ No,”  replied  Anne.  “Let  this  dame  be  dismissed.” 

“ I shall  not  go  at  your  bidding,  minion ! ” cried  Cath- 
erine, fiercely. 

“ Ah  ! ” cried  Anne,  starting  ; “ whom  have  we  here  ? ” 

“ One  you  had  better  have  avoided,”  whispered  Henry. 

“ The  queen ! ” exclaimed  Anne,  with  a look  of  dismay. 

“ Ay,  the  queen ! ” echoed  Catherine,  unmasking. 
“Henry,  if  you  have  any  respect  left  for  me,  I pray  you, 
order  this  woman  from  my  presence.  Let  me  depart  in 
peace.” 

“ Lady  Anne,  pray  you  retire,”  said  Henry. 

But  Anne  stood  her  ground  resolutely. 

“Nay,  let  her  stay,  then,”  said  the  queen;  “and  I 
promise  you  she  shall  repent  her  rashness.  And  do  you 
stay  too,  Henry,  and  regard  well  her  whom  you  are  about 
to  make  your  spouse.  Question  your  sister  Mary,  some- 
while  consort  to  Louis  the  Twelfth  and  now  Duchess  of 
Suffolk, — question  her  as  to  the  character  and  conduct 
of  Anne  Boleyn  when  she  was  her  attendant  at  the  court 
of  France — ask  whether  she  had  never  to  reprove  her  for 
levity — question  the  Lord  Percy  as  to  her  love  for  him — 
question  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  and  a host  of  others.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  193 

“All  these  charges  are  false  and  calumnious,”  cried 
Anne  Boleyn. 

“ Let  the  king  inquire  and  judge  for  himself,”  rejoined 
Catherine,  “ and  if  he  weds  you,  let  him  look  well  to  you, 
or  you  will  make  him  a scoff  to  all  honorable  men.  And 
now,  as  you  have  come  between  him  and  me — as  you  have 
divided  husband  and  wife — for  the  intent,  whether  suc- 
cessful or  not,  I denounce  you  before  Heaven,  and  invoke 
its  wrath  upon  your  head.  Night  and  day,  I will  pray 
that  you  may  be  brought  to  shame  ; and  when  I shall  be 
called  hence,  as  I may  be  soon,  I will  appear  before  the 
throne  of  the  Most  High,  and  summon  you  to  judg- 
ment.” 

“ Take  me  from  her,  Henry,”  cried  Anne,  faintly ; “her 
violence  affrights  me.” 

“No,  you  shall  stay,”  said  Catherine,  grasping  her  arm, 
and  detaining  her,  “you  shall  hear  your  doom.  You 
imagine  your  career  will  be  a brilliant  one,  and  that  you 
will  be  able  to  wield  the  scepter  you  wrongfully  wrest 
from  me,  but  it  will  molder  into  dust  in  your  hand — 
the  crown  unjustly  placed  upon  your  brow  will  fall  to  the 
ground,  and  it  will  bring  the  head  with  it.” 

“ Take  me  away,  Henry,  I implore  you ! ” cried  Anne. 

“You  shall  hear  me  out,”  pursued  Catherine,  exerting 
all  her  strength,  and  maintaining  her  grasp — “ or  I will 
follow  you  down  yon  aisles,  and  pour  forth  my  malediction 
against  you  in  the  hearing  of  all  your  attendants.  You 
have  braved  me,  and  shall  feel  my  power.  Look  at  her, 
Henry — see  how  she  shrinks  before  the  gaze  of  an  injured 
woman.  Look  me  in  the  face,  minion — you  cannot! — 
you  dare  not ! ” 

“ Oh,  Henry ! ” sobbed  Anne. 

“You  have  brought  it  upon  yourself,”  said  the  king. 

“ She  has,”  replied  Catherine  ; “ and  unless  she  pauses 
and  repents,  she  will  bring  yet  more  upon  her  head.  You 


194 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


suffer  now,  minion,  but  how  will  you  feel  when,  in  your 
turn,  you  are  despised,  neglected,  and  supplanted  by  a 
rival — when  the  false  glitter  of  your  charms  having  passed 
away,  Henry  will  see  only  your  faults — and  will  open  his 
eyes  to  all  I now  tell  him  ? ” 

A sob  was  all  the  answer  Anne  could  return. 

64  You  will  feel  as  I feel  towards  you,”  pursued  the 
queen — “ hatred  towards  her ; but  you  will  not  have  the 
consolations  I enjoy.  You  will  have  merited  your  fate ; 
and  you  will  then  think  upon  me  and  my  woes,  and  will 
bitterly,  but  unavailingly,  repent  your  conduct.  And 
now,  Henry,”  she  exclaimed,  turning  solemnly  to  him, 
“ you  have  pledged  your  royal  word  to  me,  and  given  me 
your  hand  upon  it,  that  if  you  find  this  woman  false  to 
you,  she  shall  expiate  her  offense  on  the  block.  I call 
upon  you  to  ratify  the  pledge  in  her  presence.” 

“ I do  so,  Catherine,”  replied  the  king.  “ The  mere 
suspicion  of  her  guilt  shall  be  enough.” 

“ Henry  ! ” exclaimed  Anne. 

“ I have  said  it,”  replied  the  king. 

“ Tremble,  then,  Anne  Boleyn ! ” cried  Catherine, 
“ tremble!  and  when  you  are  adjudged  to  die  the  death 
of  an  adulteress,  bethink  you  of  the  prediction  of  the  queen 
you  have  injured.  I may  not  live  to  witness  your  fate, 
but  we  shall  meet  before  the  throne  of  an  eternal  judge.” 

“ Oh,  Henry,  this  is  too  much ! ” gasped  Anne.  And 
she  sank  fainting  into  his  arms. 

“ Begone!”  cried  the  king,  furiously.  “You  have 
killed  her ! ” 

“ It  were  well  for  us  both  if  I had  done  so,”  replied 
Catherine.  “ But  she  will  recover  to  work  my  misery 
and  her  own.  To  your  hands  I commit  her  punishment. 
May  God  bless  you,  Henry ! ” With  this  she  replaced 
her  mask,  and  quitted  the  chapel. 

Henry,  meanwhile,  anxious  to  avoid  the  comments  of 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  195 

his  attendants,  exerted  himself  to  restore  Anne  Boleyn  to 
sensibility,  and  his  efforts  were  speedily  successful. 

“ Is  it , then,  reality  ? ” gasped  Anne,  as  she  gazed 
around.  “ I hoped  it  was  a hideous  dream.  Oh,  Henry, 
this  has  been  frightful ! But  you  will  not  kill  me,  as  she 
predicted  ? Swear  to  me  you  will  not ! ” 

“Why  should  you  be  alarmed?”  rejoined  the  king. 
“ If  you  are  faithful,  you  have  nothing  to  fear.” 

“ But  you  said  suspicion,  Henry — you  said  suspicion ! ” 
cried  Anne. 

“You  must  put  the  greater  guard  upon  your  conduct,” 
rejoined  the  king,  moodily.  “ I begin  to  think  there  is 
some  truth  in  Catherine’s  insinuations.” 

“ Oh  ! no ; I swear  to  you  there  is  not,”  said  Anne — “ I 
have  trifled  with  the  gallants  of  Francis’s  court,  and  have 
listened,  perhaps  too  complacently,  to  the  love- vows  of 
Percy  and  Wyat,  but  when  your  majesty  deigned  to 
cast  eyes  upon  me,  all  others  vanished  as  the  stars  of 
night  before  the  rising  of  the  god  of  day.  Henry,  I love 
you  deeply,  devotedly — but  Catherine’s  terrible  impreca- 
tions make  me  feel  more  keenly  than  I have  ever  done 
before  the  extent  of  the  wrong  I am  about  to  inflict  upon 
her — and  I fear  that  retributive  punishment  will  follow 
it.” 

“You  will  do  her  no  wrong,”  replied  Henry.  “I  am 
satisfied  of  the  justice  of  the  divorce,  and  of  its  necessity  ; 
and  if  my  purposed  union  with  you  were  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, I should  demand  it.  Be  the  fault  on  my  head.” 

“ Your  words  restore  me,  in  some  measure,  my  liege,” 
said  Anne.  “ I love  you  too  well  not  to  risk  body  and 
soul  for  you  ; I am  yours  forever — ha ! ” she  exclaimed, 
with  a fearful  look. 

“ What  ails  you,  sweetheart  ? ” exclaimed  the  king. 

“ I thought  I saw  a face  at  that  window,”  she  replied — 
“ a black  and  hideous  face  like  that  of  a fiend.” 


196 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ It  was  mere  fancy,”  replied  the  king.  44  Your  mind  is 
disturbed  by  what  has  occurred.  You  had  better  join 
your  attendants,  and  retire  to  your  own  apartments.” 

44  Oh,  Henry  ! ” cried  Anne — 44  do  not  judge  me  unheard 
— do  not  believe  what  any  false  tongue  may  utter  against 
me.  I love  only  you — and  can  love  only  you.  I would 
not  wrong  you,  even  in  thought,  for  worlds.” 

44 1 believe  you,  sweetheart,”  replied  the  king,  tenderly. 

So  saying,  he  led  her  down  the  aisle  to  her  attendants. 
They  then  proceeded  together  to  the  royal  lodgings, 
where  Anne  retired  to  her  own  apartments,  and  Henry 
withdrew  to  his  private  chamber. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


197 


CHAPTER  II. 

HOW  HERNE  THE  HUNTER  APPEARED  TO  HENRY  ON  THE 
TERRACE. 

Henry  again  sat  down  to  his  despatches,  and  employed 
himself  upon  them  to  a late  hour.  At  length,  feeling 
heated  and  oppressed,  he  rose,  and  opened  a window. 
As  he  did  so,  he  was  almost  blinded  by  a vivid  flash  of 
forked  lightning.  Ever  ready  to  court  danger,  and  con- 
vinced, from  the  intense  gloom  without,  that  a fearful 
storm  was  coming  on,  Henry  resolved  to  go  forth  to  wit- 
ness it.  With  this  view,  he  quitted  the  closet,  and  passed 
through  a small  door  opening  upon  the  northern  terrace. 
The  castle  clock  tolled  the  hour  of  midnight,  as  he  issued 
forth,  and  the  darkness  was  so  profound  that  he  could 
scarcely  see  a foot  before  him.  But  he  went  on. 

“ Who  goes  there  ? ” cried  a voice,  as  he  advanced,  and 
a partisan  was  placed  at  his  breast. 

“ The  king  ! ” replied  Henry,  in  tones  that  would  have 
left  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  even  if  a gleam 
of  lightning  had  not  at  the  moment  revealed  his  figure 
and  countenance  to  the  sentinel. 

“ I did  not  look  for  your  majesty  at  such  a time,”  replied 
the  man,  lowering  his  pike.  “ Has  your  majesty  no  appre- 
hension of  the  storm  ? I have  watched  it  gathering  in 
the  valley,  and  it  will  be  a dreadful  one.  If  I might 
make  bold  to  counsel  you,  I would  advise  you  to  seek 
instant  shelter  in  the  castle.” 

“ I have  no  fear,  good  fellow,”  laughed  the  king.  a Get 
thee  into  yon  porch,  and  leave  the  terrace  to  me.  I will 
warn  thee  when  I leave  it.” 

As  he  spoke,  a tremendous  peal  of  thunder  broke  over- 


198 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


head,  and  seemed  to  shake  the  strong  pile  to  its  founda- 
tions. Again  the  lightning  rent  the  black  canopy  of 
heaven  in  various  places,  and  shot  down  in  forked  flashes 
of  the  most  dazzling  brightness.  A rack  of  clouds, 
heavily  charged  with  electric  fluid,  hung  right  over  the 
castle,  and  poured  down  all  their  fires  upon  it. 

Henry  placed  slowly  to  and  fro,  utterly  indifferent  to 
the  peril  he  ran — now  watching  the  lightning  as  it 
shivered  some  oak  in  the  Home  Park — or  lighted  up  the 
wide  expanse  of  country  around  him — now  listening  to 
the  roar  of  heaven’s  artillery,  and  he  had  just  quitted  the 
western  extremity  of  the  terrace,  when  the  most  terrific 
crash  he  had  yet  heard  burst  over  him.  The  next  in- 
stant, a dozen  forked  flashes  shot  from  the  sky,  while  fiery 
coruscations  blazed  athwart  it ; and  at  the  same  moment, 
a bolt  struck  the  Wykeham  Tower,  beside  which  he  had 
been  recently  standing.  Startled  by  the  appalling  sound, 
he  turned  and  beheld  upon  the  battlemented  parapet  on 
his  left,  a tall  ghostly  figure,  whose  antlered  helm  told 
him  it  was  Herne  the  hunter.  Dilated  against  the  flam- 
ing sky,  the  proportions  of  the  demon  seemed  gigantic. 
His  right  hand  was  stretched  forth  towards  the  king,  and 
in  his  left  he  held  a rusty  chain.  Henry  grasped  the 
handle  of  his  sword,  and  partly  drew  it,  keeping  his  gaze 
fixed  upon  the  figure. 

“ You  thought  you  had  got  rid  of  me,  Harry  of  Eng- 
land,” cried  Herne — “ but  were  you  to  lay  the  weight  of 
this  vast  fabric  upon  me,  I would  break  from  under  it — 
ho!  ho!” 

“ What  wouldst  thou,  infernal  spirit  ? ” cried  Henry. 

“ I am  come  to  keep  company  with  you,  Harry,”  replied 
the  demon ; “ this  is  a night  when  only  you  and  I should 
be  abroad.  We  know  how  to  enjoy  it.  We  like  the 
music  of  the  loud  thunder,  and  the  dance  of  the  blithe 
lightning.” 


Startled  by  the  sound,  Henry  turned  and  beheld  on  the  parapet, 
the  tall  ghastly  figure  of  Herne  the  hunter.  Page  198. 

Windsor  Castle 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  199 

44 Avaunt,  fiend!”  cried  Henry,  “I  will  hold  no  con- 
verse with  thee.  Back  to  thy  native  hell ! ” 

“ You  have  no  power  over  me,  Harry,”  rejoined  the 
demon,  his  words  mingling  with  the  rolling  of  the  thunder, 
“ for  your  thoughts  are  evil,  and  you  are  about  to  do  an  ac- 
cursed deed.  You  cannot  dismiss  me.  Before  the  com- 
mission of  every  great  crime — and  many  great  crimes  you 
will  commit — I will  always  appear  to  you.  And  my  last 
appearance  shall  be  three  days  before  your  end — ha ! ha ! ” 
44  Darest  thou  say  this  to  me  ? ” cried  Henry,  furiously. 
“I  laugh  at  thy  menaces,”  rejoined  Herne,  amid  another 
peal  of  thunder — “ but  I have  not  yet  done.  Harry  of 
England,  your  career  shall  be  stained  in  blood.  Your 
wrath  shall  descend  upon  the  heads  of  those  who  love 
you,  and  your  love  shall  be  fatal.  Better  Anne  Boleyn 
fled  this  castle,  and  sought  shelter  in  the  lowliest  hovel 
in  the  land,  than  become  your  spouse.  For  you  will  slay 
her — and  not  her  alone.  Another  shall  fall  by  your  hand ; 
and  so,  if  you  had  your  own  will,  would  all ! ” 

“ What  meanest  thou  by  all  ? ” demanded  the  king. 

44  You  will  learn  in  due  season,”  laughed  the  fiend. 
44  But  now  mark  me,  Harry  of  England,  thou  fierce  and 
bloody  king  ! — thou  shalt  be  drunken  with  the  blood  of 
thy  wives ; and  thy  end  shall  be  a fearful  one.  Thou  shalt 
linger  out  a living  death — a mass  of  breathing  corruption 
shalt  thou  become — and  when  dead,  the  very  hounds 
with  which  thou  huntedst  me  shall  lick  thy  blood  ! ” 
These  awful  words,  involving  a fearful  prophecy,  which 
was  afterwards,  as  will  be  shown,  strangely  fulfilled,  were 
so  mixed  up  with  the  rolling  of  the  thunder,  that  Henry 
could  scarcely  distinguish  one  sound  from  the  other.  At 
the  close  of  the  latter  speech,  a flash  of  lightning  of  such 
dazzling  brilliancy  shot  down  past  him,  that  he  remained 
for  some  moments  almost  blinded  ; and  when  he  recovered 
his  powers  of  vision,  the  demon  had  vanished. 


200 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HOW  MABEL  LYNDWOOD  WAS  TAKEN  TO  THE  CASTLE  BY 
NICHOLAS  CLAMP  ; AND  HOW  THEY  ENCOUNTERED  MORGAN 
FENWOLF  BY  THE  WAY. 

The  storm  which  had  fallen  so  heavily  on  the  castle 
had  likewise  visited  the  lake,  and  alarmed  the  inmates  of 
the  little  dwelling  on  its  banks.  Both  the  forester  and 
his  granddaughter  were  roused  from  their  beds,  and  they 
sat  together  in  the  chief  apartment  of  the  cottage,  listen- 
ing to  the  awful  rolling  of  the  thunder,  and  watching  the 
blue  flashing  of  the  lightning.  The  storm  was  of  unusually 
long  duration,  and  continued  for  more  than  an  hour  with 
unintermitted  violence.  It  then  paused  ; the  thunder  rolled 
off,  and  the  flashes  of  lightning  grew  fainter  and  less 
frequent.  During  the  storm,  Mabel  continued  on  her 
knees,  addressing  the  most  earnest  prayers  to  the  Virgin 
for  her  preservation  and  that  of  her  grandfather  ; but  the 
old  forester,  though  evidently  much  alarmed,  uttered  not 
a single  supplication,  but  remained  sitting  in  his  chair 
with  a sullen,  scared  look.  As  the  thunder  died  away,  he 
recovered  his  composure,  and  addressed  himself  to  soothe 
the  fears  of  his  granddaughter.  In  this  he  had  partially 
succeeded,  and  was  urging  her  again  to  seek  her  couch, 
when  the  storm  recommenced  with  fresh  fury.  Mabel 
once  more  fell  on  her  knees,  and  the  old  man  resumed 
his  sullen  posture.  Another  dreadful  half-hour,  marked 
by  a succession  of  terrible  peals  and  vivid  flashes,  suc- 
ceeded, when,  amidst  an  awful  pause,  Mabel  ventured  to 
address  her  old  relative. 

“ Why  do  you  not  pray,  grandfather  ? ” she  said,  regard- 
ing him  uneasily.  46  Sister  Anastasia  and  good  Father 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


201 


Anselm  always  taught  me  to  utter  an  Aye  and  cross  my- 
self during  a thunder-storm.  Why  do  you  not  pray, 
grandfather  ? ” 

“ Do  not  trouble  me,”  replied  Tristram.  44  I have  no 
fear.” 

“ But  your  cheeks  and  lips  are  blanched,”  rejoined 
Mabel,  “ and  I observed  you  shudder  during  that  last 
' awful  crash.  Pray,  grandfather,  pray  ! ” 

“ Peace,  wench,  and  mind  your  own  business ! ” returned 
the  old  man  angrily.  44  The  storm  will  soon  be  over — it 
cannot  last  long  in  this  way.” 

44  The  saints  preserve  us  ! ” cried  Mabel,  as  a tremen- 
dous concussion  was  heard  overhead,  followed  by  a strong 
sulphurous  smell.  44  The  cottage  is  struck  ! ” 

44  It  is — it  is  ! ” cried  Tristram,  springing  to  his  feet, 
and  rushing  forth. 

For  a few  minutes,  Mabel  continued  in  a state  of  stupe- 
faction. She  then  staggered  to  the  door,  and  beheld  her 
grandfather  occupied,  with  two  dark  figures,  whom  she 
recognized  as  Valentine  Hagthorne  and  Morgan  Fen  wolf, 
in  extinguishing  the  flames,  which  were  bursting  from 
the  thatched  roof  of  the  hut.  Surprise  and  terror  held 
her  silent ; and  the  others  were  so  busily  engaged,  that 
they  did  not  notice  her.  At  last,  by  their  united  efforts, 
the  fire  was  got  under  without  material  damage  to  the 
little  building,  and  Mabel  retired,  expecting  her  grandsire 
to  return ; but  as  he  did  not  do  so,  and  as  almost  instantly 
afterwards  the  plash  of  oars  was  heard  on  the  lake,  she 
flew  to  the  window,  and  beheld  him,  by  the  gleam  of  the 
lightning,  seated  in  the  skiff  with  Morgan  Fenwolf,  while 
Valentine  Hagthorne  had  mounted  a black  horse,  and  was 
galloping  swiftly  away.  Mabel  saw  no  more.  Overcome 
by  fright,  she  sank  on  the  ground  insensible.  When  she 
recovered,  the  storm  had  entirely  ceased.  A heavy 
shower  had  fallen,  but  the  sky  was  now  perfectly  clear, 


202 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


and  day  had  begun  to  dawn.  Mabel  went  to  the  door  of 
the  hut,  and  looked  forth  for  her  grandfather,  but  he  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  She  remained  gazing  at  the  now 
peaceful  lake  till  the  sun  had  fairly  risen,  when  feeling 
more  composed,  she  retired  to  rest,  and  sleep,  which  had 
been  banished  from  them  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
night,  now  fell  upon  her  lovely  eyelids. 

When  she  awoke,  the  day  was  far  advanced,  but  still 
old  Tristram  had  not  returned ; and  with  a heavy  heart 
she  set  about  her  household  concerns.  The  thought, 
however,  of  her  anticipated  visit  to  the  castle  speedily 
dispelled  her  anxiety,  and  she  began  to  make  prepara- 
tions for  setting  out,  attiring  herself  with  unusual  care. 
Bouchier  had  not  experienced  much  difficulty  in  persua- 
ding her  to  obey  the  king’s  behest,  and  by  his  artful  rep- 
resentations, he  had  likewise  induced  her  grandfather  to 
give  his  consent  to  the  visit, — the  old  forester  only  stip- 
ulating that  she  should  be  escorted  there  and  back  by  a 
falconer,  named  Nicholas  Clamp,  in  whom  he  could  put 
trust ; to  which  proposition  Bouchier  readily  assented. 

At  length,  five  o’clock,  the  appointed  hour,  arrived,  and 
with  it  came  Nicholas  Clamp.  He  was  a tall,  middle- 
aged  man,  with  yellow  hair,  clipped  closely  over  his  brows, 
and  a beard  and  mustaches  to  match.  His  attire  resem- 
bled that  of  a keeper  of  the  forest,  and  consisted  of  a 
doublet  and  hose  of  green  cloth ; but  he  did  not  carry  a 
bugle  or  hunting-knife.  His  sole  weapon  was  a stout 
quarter- staff.  After  some  little  hesitation,  Mabel  con- 
sented to  accompany  the  falconer,  and  they  set  forth  to- 
gether. 

The  evening  was  delightful,  and  their  way  through 
the  woods  was  marked  by  numberless  points  of  beauty. 
Mabel  said  little,  for  her  thoughts  were  running  upon 
her  grandfather,  and  upon  his  prolonged  and  mysterious 
absence ; but  the  falconer  talked  of  the  damage  done  by 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


203 


the  thunder-storm,  which  he  declared  was  the  most  awful 
he  had  ever  witnessed ; and  he  pointed  out  to  her  several 
trees  struck  by  the  lightning.  Proceeding  in  this  way 
they  gained  a road  leading  from  Blacknest,  when,  from 
behind  a large  oak,  the  trunk  of  which  had  concealed  him 
from  view,  Morgan  Fenwolf  started  forth,  and  planted 
(himself  in  their  path.  The  gear  of  the  proscribed  keeper 
was  wild  and  ragged,  his  locks  matted  and  disordered, 
his  demeanor  savage,  and  his  whole  appearance  forbid- 
ding and  alarming. 

“ I have  been  waiting  for  you  for  some  time,  Mabel 
Lyndwood,”  he  said.  “ You  must  go  with  me  to  your 
grandfather.” 

“ My  grandfather  would  never  send  you  for  me,”  replied 
Mabel ; “ but  if  he  did,  I will  not  trust  myself  with  you.” 

“ The  saints  preserve  us ! ” cried  Nicholas  Clamp.  “ Can 
I believe  my  eyes  ! — Do  I behold  Morgan  Fenwolf ! ” 

“ Come  with  me,  Mabel,”  cried  Fenwolf,  disregarding 
him. 

But  she  returned  a peremptory  refusal. 

“ She  shall  not  stir  an  inch  ! ” cried  the  falconer.  “ It 
is  thou,  Morgan  Fenwolf,  who  must  go  with  me.  Thou 
art  a proscribed  felon,  and  thy  life  is  forfeit  to  the  king. 
Yield  thee,  dog,  as  my  prisoner  ! ” 

“ Thy  prisoner  ! ” echoed  Fenwolf,  scornfully.  “ It 
would  take  three  such  as  thou  art  to  make  me  captive ! 
Mabel  Lyndwood,  in  your  grandfather’s  name,  I com- 
mand you  to  come  with  me,  and  let  Nick  Clamp  look  to 
himself  if  he  dares  to  hinder  you.” 

“Nick  will  do  something  more  than  hinder  her,” 
rejoined  the  falconer,  brandishing  his  staff,  and  rushing 
upon  the  other.  “Felon  hound!  I command  thee  to 
yield ! ” 

Before  the  falconer  could  reach  him,  Morgan  Fenwolf 
plucked  a long  hunting-knife  from  his  girdle,  and  made  a 


204 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


desperate  stab  at  his  assailant.  But  Clamp  avoided  the 
blow,  and  striking  Fen  wolf  on  the  shins,  immediately 
afterwards  closed  with  him. 

The  result  was  still  doubtful,  when  the  struggle  was 
suddenly  interrupted  by  the  trampling  of  horse  approach- 
ing from  the  side  of  Windsor ; and  at  the  sound,  Morgan 
Fenwolf  disengaged  himself  from  his  antagonist,  and 
plunged  into  the  adjoining  wood.  The  next  moment, 
Captain  Bouchier  rode  up,  followed  by  a small  band  of 
halberdiers,  and  receiving  information  from  the  falconer 
of  what  had  occurred,  darted  with  his  men  into  the  wood 
in  search  of  the  fugitive.  Nicholas  Clamp  and  his  com- 
panion did  not  await  the  issue  of  the  search,  but  proceeded 
on  their  way. 

As  they  walked  at  a brisk  pace,  they  reached  the  long 
avenue  in  about  half  an  hour,  and  took  their  way  down  it. 
When  within  a mile  of  the  castle,  they  were  overtaken 
by  Bouchier  and  his  followers,  and  the  falconer  was  much 
disappointed  to  learn  that  they  had  failed  in  tracking 
Morgan  Fenwolf  to  his  lair.  After  addressing  a few 
complimentary  words  to  the  maiden,  Bouchier  rode  on. 

Soon  after  this,  the  pair  quitted  the  Great  Park,  and 
passing  through  a row  of  straggling  houses,  divided  by 
gardens  and  closes,  which  skirted  the  foot  of  Castle  Hill, 
presently  reached  the  lower  gate.  They  were  admitted 
without  difficulty;  but  just  as  they  entered  the  lower 
ward,  the  falconer  was  hailed  by  Shoreditch  and  Padding- 
ton, who,  at  the  moment,  issued  from  the  doorway  of  the 
guard-room. 

Clamp  obeyed  the  call,  and  went  towards  them ; and  it 
was  evident,  from  the  gestures  of  the  archers,  that  they 
were  making  inquiries  about  Mabel,  whose  appearance 
seemed  to  interest  them  greatly.  After  a brief  conversa- 
tion with  the  falconer,  they  approached  her,  and  respect- 
fully addressing  her,  begged  leave  to  attend  her  to  the  royal 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


20f> 

lodgings,  whither  they  understood  she  was  going.  No  ob- 
jection being  made  to  the  proposal  by  Mabel,  the  party 
directed  their  course  towards  the  middle  ward. 

Passing  through  the  gateway  of  the  Norman  Tower, 
they  stopped  before  a low  portal  in  a picturesque  Gothic 
wing  of  the  castle,  with  projecting  walls  and  bay  windows, 
which  had  been  erected  in  the  preceding  reign  of  Henry 
the  Seventh,  and  was,  consequently,  still  in  all  its  fresh- 
ness and  beauty. 


206 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  MABEL  WAS  RECEIVED  BY  THE  PARTY  IN’  THE  KITCHEN  ; 

\ AND  OF  THE  QUARREL  BETWEEN  THE  TWO  JESTERS. 

j Addressing  himself  to  a stout-built  yeoman  of  the 
guard,  who  was  standing  within  the  doorway,  Nicholas 
Clamp  demanded  admittance  to  the  kitchen,  and  the  man 
having  detained  them  for  a few  moments,  during  which 
he  regarded  Mabel  with  a very  offensive  stare,  ushered 
them  into  a small  hall,  and  from  thence  into  a narrow 
passage  connected  with  it.  Lighted  by  narrow  loopholes, 
pierced  through  the  walls,  which  were  of  immense  thick- 
ness, this  passage  described  the  outer  side  of  the  whole 
upper  quadrangle,  and  communicated  with  many  other 
lateral  passages  and  winding  stairs  leading  to  the  chambers 
allotted  to  the  household,  or  to  the  state  apartments. 
Tracking  it  for  some  time,  Nicholas  Clamp,  at  length, 
turned  off  on  the  right,  and  crossing  a sort  of  anteroom, 
led  the  way  into  a large  chamber  with  stone  walls  and  a 
coved  and  groined  roof,  lighted  by  a great  window  at 
the  lower  end.  This  was  the  royal  kitchen,  and  in  it 
yawned  no  fewer  than  seven  huge  arched  fireplaces 
in  which  fires  were  burning,  and  before  which  vari* 
ous  goodly  joints  were  being  roasted,  while  a numbef 
of  cooks  and  scullions  were  congregated  round  therm 
At  a large  table,  in  the  center  of  the  kitchen,  were 
seated  some  half-dozen  yeomen  of  the  guard,  together 
with  the  clerk  of  the  kitchen,  the  chief  bargeman,  and 
the  royal  cutler,  or  blade-smith,  as  he  was  termed. 
These  worthies  were  doing  ample  justice  to  a chine  of 
beef,  a wild  boar  pie,  a couple  of  fat  capons,  a peacock 
pasty,  a mess  of  pickled  lojbsters,  and  other  excellent,  and 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


207 


inviting  dishes  with  which  the  board  was  loaded. 
Neither  did  they  neglect  to  wash  down  the  viands  with 
copious  draughts  of  ale  and  mead,  from  great  pots  and 
flagons  placed  beside  them.  Behind  this  party  stood 
Giovanni  Joungevello,  an  Italian  minstrel,  much  in  favor 
with  Anne  Boleyn,  and  Domingo  Lamellino,  or  Lamelyn 
— as  he  was  familiarly  termed, — a Lombard,  who  pre- 
tended to  some  knowledge  of  chirurgery,  astrology,  and 
alchemy,  and  who  was  a constant  attendant  on  Henry. 
At  the  head  of  the  bench,  on  the  right  of  the  table,  sat 
Will  Sommers.  The  jester  was  not  partaking  of  the  re- 
past, but  was  chatting  with  Simon  Quanden,  the  chief 
cook,  a good-humored  personage,  round-bellied  as  a tun, 
and  blessed  with  a spouse,  yclept  Deborah,  as  fond  of 
good  cheer,  as  fat,  and  as  good-humored  as  himself. 
Behind  the  cook  stood  the  cellarman,  known  by  the 
appellation  of  Jack  of  the  Bottles,  and  at  his  feet 
were  two  playful  little  turnspits,  with  long  backs,  and 
short  forelegs,  as  crooked  almost  as  sickles. 

On  seeing  Mabel,  Will  Sommers  immediately  arose, 
and  advancing  towards  her  with  a mincing  step,  bowed 
with  an  air  of  mock  ceremony,  and  said  in  an  affected 
tone, — “Welcome,  fair  mistress,  to  the  king’s  kitchen. 
We  are  all  right  glad  to  see  you  ; are  we  not,  mates?  ” 

“ Ay,  that  we  are ! ” replied  a chorus  of  voices. 

“ By  my  troth,  the  wench  is  wondrously  beautiful ! ” 
said  Kit  Coo,  one  of  the  yeomen  of  the  guard. 

“No  wonder  the  king  is  smitten  with  her!”  said 
Launcelot  Rutter,  the  blade-smith ; “ her  eyes  shine  like 
a dagger’s  point.” 

* And  she  carries  herself  like  a waf  ter  on  the  river,” 
said  the  bargeman. 

“ Her  complexion  is  as  good  as  if  I had  given  her  some 
of  my  sovereign  balsam  of  beauty,”  said  Domingo  Lame- 


208 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“Much  better,”  observed  Joungevello,  the  minstrel; 
“ I shall  write  a canzonet  in  her  praise,  and  sing  it  before 
the  king.” 

“And  get  flouted  for  thy  pains  by  the  Lady  Anne,” 
said  Kit  Coo. 

“ The  damsel  is  not  so  comely  as  I expected  to  find  her,” 
observed  Amice  Lovekyn,  one  of  the  serving  women,  to 
Hector  Cutbeard,  the  clerk  of  the  kitchen. 

“ Why,  if  you  come  to  that,  she  is  not  to  be  compared 
to  you,  pretty  Amice ! ” said  Cutbeard,  who  was  a red- 
nosed, red-faced  fellow,  with  a twinkling  merry  eye. 

“ Kay,  I meant  not  that,”  replied  Amice,  retreating. 

“ Excuse  my  getting  up  to  receive  you,  fair  mistress,” 
cried  Simon  Quanden,  who  seemed  fixed  to  his  chair ; “ I 
have  been  bustling  about  all  day,  and  am  sore  fatigued — 
sore  fatigued.  But  will  you  not  take  something  ? A 
sugared  cate,  and  a glass  of  hypocras  jelly — or  a slice  of 
capon.  Go  to  the  damsel,  dame,  and  prevail  on  her  to 
eat.” 

“ That  will  I,”  replied  Deborah.  “ What  shall  it  be, 
sweetheart?  We  have  a well-stored  larder  here.  You 
have  only  to  ask  and  have.” 

“ I thank  you,  but  I am  in  want  of  nothing,”  replied 
Mabel. 

“ Kay,  that  is  against  all  rule,  sweetheart,”  said  Deb- 
orah ; “ no  one  enters  the  king’s  kitchen  without  tasting 
his  royal  cheer.” 

“ I am  sorry  I must  prove  an  exception,  then,”  returned 
Mabel,  smiling ; “ for  I have  no  appetite.” 

“Well,  well,  I will  not  force  you  to  eat  against  your 
will,”  replied  the  good  dame.  “ But  a cup  of  wine  will 
do  you  good  after  your  walk.” 

“ I will  wait  upon  her,”  said  the  Duke  of  Shoreditch, 
who  vied  with  Paddington  and  Nick  Clamp  in  attention 
to  the  damsel. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


209 


“ Let  me  pray  you  to  cast  your  eyes  upon  these  two 
dogs,  fair  Mabel,”  said  Will  Sommers,  pointing  to  the 
two  turnspits ; “they  are  special  favorites  of  the  king’s 
highness.  They  are  much  attached  to  the  cook,  their 
master ; but  their  chief  love  is  towards  each  other,  and 
nothing  can  keep  them  apart.” 

“Will  Sommers  speaks  the  truth,”  rejoined  Simon 
Quanden.  “Hob  and  Nob,  for  so  they  are  named,  are 
fast  friends.  When  Hob  gets  into  the  box  to  turn  the 
spit,  Nob  will  watch  beside  it  till  his  brother  is  tired,  and 
then  he  will  take  his  place.  They  always  eat  out  of  the 
same  platter,  and  drink  out  of  the  same  cup.  I once 
separated  them  for  a few  hours  to  see  what  would  happen, 
but  they  howled  so  piteously,  that  I was  forced  to  bring 
them  together  again.  It  would  have  done  your  heart 
good  to  witness  their  meeting,  and  to  see  how  they  leaped 
and  rolled  with  delight ! Here,  Hob,”  he  added,  taking  a 
cake  from  his  apron  pocket,  “divide  this  with  thy 
brother.” 

Placing  his  paws  on  his  master’s  knees,  the  nearest 
turnspit  took  the  cake  in  his  mouth,  and  proceeding  to- 
wards Nob,  broke  it  into  two  pieces,  and  pushed  the  larger 
portion  towards  him. 

While  Mabel  was  admiring  this  display  of  sagacity  and 
affection,  a bustling  step  was  heard  behind  her,  and  turn- 
ing, she  beheld  a strange  figure,  in  a particolored  gown 
and  hose,  with  a fool’s  cap  and  bells  on  his  head,  whom 
she  immediately  recognized  as  the  cardinal’s  jester,  Patch. 
The  newcomer  recognized  her  too;  stared  in  astonish- 
ment ; and  gave  a leering  look  at  Will  Sommers. 

“What  brings  you  here,  gossip  Patch?”  cried  Will 
Sommers. — “ I thought  you  were  in  attendance  upon  your 
master,  at  the  court  at  Blackfriars.” 

“ So  I have  been,”  replied  Patch — “ and  I am  only  just 
arrived  with  his  grace,” 


210 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ What ! is  the  decision  pronounced  ? ” cried  Will  Som- 
mers, eagerly.  “ Is  the  queen  divorced  ? Is  the  king 
single  again  ? Let  us  hear  the  sentence.” 

“ Ay,  the  sentence  ! — the  sentence  ! ” resounded  on  all 
hands. 

Stimulated  by  curiosity,  the  whole  of  the  party  rose 
from  the  table ; Simon  Quanden  got  out  of  his  chair ; the 
other  cooks  left  their  joints  to  scorch  at  the  fire ; the 
scullions  suspended  their  work ; and  Hob  and  Nob  fixed 
their  large  inquiring  black  eyes  upon  the  jester. 

“ I never  talk  thirsting,”  said  Patch,  marching  to  the 
table,  and  filling  himself  a flagon  of  mead.  “Here’s  to 
you,  fair  maiden,”  he  added,  kissing  the  cup  to  Mabel, 
and  swallowing  its  contents  at  a draught.  “And  now 
be  seated,  my  masters,  and  you  shall  hear  all  I have  to 
relate,  and  it  will  be  told  in  a few  words.  The  court  is 
adjourned  for  three  days, — Queen  Catherine  having  de- 
manded that  time  to  prepare  her  allegations,  and  the 
delay  has  been  granted  her.” 

“ Pest  on  it ! — the  delay  is  some  trick  of  your  crafty 
and  double-dealing  master,”  cried  Will  Sommers.  u Were 
I the  king,  I know  how  I would  deal  with  him.” 

“What  wouldst  thou  do,  thou  scurril  knave?”  cried 
Patch,  angrily. 

« I would  strip  him  of  his  ill-gotten  wealth,  and  leave 
him  only  thee — a fitting  attendant — of  all  his  thousand 
servitors,”  replied  Will. 

“ This  shall  to  his  grace’s  ears,”  screamed  Patchy  amid 
the  laughter  of  the  company, — “ and  see  whether  your 
back  does  not  smart  for  it.” 

“ I fear  him  not,”  replied  Will  Sommers.  “I  have  not 
yet  told  the  king  my  master  of  the  rare  wine  we  found 
in  his  cellar.” 

“What  wine  was  that.  Will?”  cried  Jack  of  the 
Bottles.  V'? 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


m 


44  You  shall  hear,”  replied  Will  Sommers,  enjoying  the 
disconcerted  look  of  the  other  jester.  “I  was  at  the 
palace  at  Hampton,  when  this  scant- witted  knave  invited 
me  to  taste  some  of  his  master’s  wine,  and  accordingly 
to  the  cellar  we  went. — 4 This  wine  will  surprise  you,’ 
quoth  he,  as  we  broached  the  first  hogshead.  And  truly 
it  did  surprise  me,  for  no  wine  followed  the  gimlet.  So 
we  went  on  to  another,  and  another,  and  another,  till  we 
had  tried  half  a score  of  them,  and  all  with  the  same  re- 
sult. Upon  this,  I seized  a hammer  which  was  lying  by, 
and  sounded  the  casks,  but  none  of  them  seeming  empty, 
I at  last  broke  the  lid  of  one — and  what  do  you  think  it 
contained  ? ” 

A variety  of  responses  were  returned  by  the  laughing 
assemblage,  during  which  Patch  sought  to  impose  silence 
upon  his  opponent.  But  Will  Sommers  was  not  to  be 
checked. 

44  It  contained  neither  vinegar,  nor  oil,  nor  lead,”  he 
said,  44  but  gold.  Ay,  solid  bars  of  gold — ingots.  Every 
hogshead  was  worth  ten  thousand  pounds,  and  more.” 

44  Credit  him  not,  my  masters,”  cried  Patch,  amid  the 
roars  of  the  company  ; 44  the  whole  is  a mere  fable — an  in- 
vention. His  grace  has  no  such  treasure.  The  truth  is, 
Will  Sommers  got  drunk  upon  some  choice  Malmsey,  and 
then  dreamed  he  had  been  broaching  casks  of  gold.” 

44  It  is  no  fable,  as  you  and  your  master  will  find,  when 
the  king  comes  to  sift  the  matter,”  replied  Will.  44  This 
will  be  a richer  result  to  him  than  was  ever  produced 
hy  your  alchemical  experiments,  good  Signor  Domingo 
Lamelyn.” 

44  It  is  false ! I say,  false ! ” screamed  Patch.  44  Let  the 
cellars  be  searched,  and  I will  stake  my  head  nothing  is 
found.” 

44  Stake  thy  cap,  and  there  may  be  some  meaning  in 
it,”  said  Will,  plucking  Patch’s  cap  from  his  head,  and 


212 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


elevating  it  on  his  truncheon — “ here  is  an  emblem  of 
the  Cardinal  of  York,”  he  cried,  pointing  to  it. 

A roar  of  laughter  from  the  company  followed  this 
sally,  and  Hob  and  Nob  looked  up  in  placid  wonderment. 

“ I shall  die  with  laughing,”  cried  Simon  Quanden, 
holding  his  fat  sides,  and  addressing  his  spouse,  who  was 
leaning  upon  his  shoulder. 

In  the  meantime,  Patch  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  gesticu- 
lating with  rage  and  fury,  cried,  “ Thou  hast  done  well 
to  steal  my  cap  and  bells,  for  they  belong  of  right  to 
thee.  Add  my  folly  to  thy  own,  and  thou  wilt  be  a 
fitting  servant  to  thy  master ; or  e’en  give  him  the  cap, 
and  then  there  will  be  a pair  of  ye.” 

“ Who  is  the  fool  now,  I should  like  to  know  ? ” re- 
joined Will  Sommers,  gravely.  “ I call  you  all  to  wit- 
ness that  he  has  spoken  treason.” 

While  this  was  passing,  Shoreditch  had  advanced  with 
a flagon  of  Malmsey  to  Mabel,  but  she  was  so  interested 
in  the  quarrel  between  the  two  jesters,  that  she  heeded 
him  not ; neither  did  she  attend  to  Nicholas  Clamp,  who 
was  trying  to  explain  to  her  what  was  going  forward. 

But  just  as  Patch’s  indiscreet  speech  was  uttered,  an 
usher  entered  the  kitchen,  and  announced  the  approach 
of  the  king. 


END  03?  VOLUME  ONE. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


213 


tbe  Gbirb* 

CARDINAL  WOLSEY. 

CHAPTER  Y. 

OF  THE  COMBAT  BETWEEN  WILL  SOMMERS  AND  PATCH  ; AND 
HOW  IT  TERMINATED. 

Mabel’s  heart  fluttered  violently  at  the  usher’s  an- 
nouncement, and  for  a moment  the  color  deserted  her 
cheek,  while  the  next  instant  she  was  covered  with 
blushes.  As  to  poor  Patch,  feeling  that  his  indiscretion 
might  place  him  in  great  jeopardy,  and  seriously  affect 
his  master,  to  whom  he  was  devotedly  attached,  he  cast 
a piteous  and  imploring  look  at  his  antagonist,  but  was 
answered  only  by  a derisive  laugh,  coupled  with  an  ex- 
pressive gesture  to  intimate  that  a halter  would  be  his 
fate.  Fearful  that  mischief  might  ensue,  the  good-natured 
Simon  Quanden  got  out  of  his  chair,  and  earnestly  be- 
sought Will  not  to  carry  matters  too  far  ; but  the  jester 
remained  implacable. 

It  was  not  unusual  with  Henry  to  visit  the  different 
offices  of  the  castle,  and  converse  freely  and  familiarly 
with  the  members  of  his  household ; but  it  was  by  no 
means  safe  to  trust  to  the  continuance  of  his  good  humor, 
or  in  the  slightest  degree  to  presume  upon  it.  It  is 
well  known  that  his  taste  for  variety  of  character  often 
led  him,  like  the  renowned  Caliph  Haroun  A1  Reschid, 
to  mix  with  the  lower  classes  of  his  subjects  in  disguise  ; 
at  which  times,  many  extraordinary  adventures  are  said 


214 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


to  have  befallen  him.  His  present  visit  to  the  kitchen, 
therefore,  would  have  occasioned  no  surprise  to  its  occu- 
pants, if  it  had  not  occurred  so  soon  after  the  cardinal's 
arrival.  But  it  was  this  circumstance,  in  fact,  that  sent 
him  thither.  The  intelligence  brought  by  Wolsey  of  the 
adjournment  of  the  court  for  three  days,  under  the  plea 
of  giving  the  queen  time  for  her  allegations,  was  so  un- 
looked for  by  Henry,  that  he  quitted  the  cardinal  in  high 
displeasure,  and  was  about  to  repair  to  Anne  Boleyn, 
when  he  encountered  Bouchier,  who  told  him  that  Mabel 
Lyndwood  had  been  brought  to  the  castle,  and  her  grand- 
sire  arrested.  The  information  changed  Henry’s  inten- 
tions at  once,  and  he  proceeded  with  Bouchier  and  some 
other  attendants  to  the  kitchen,  where  he  was  given  to 
understand  he  should  find  the  damsel. 

Many  a furtive  glance  was  thrown  at  the  king,  for  no 
one  dared  openly  to  regard  him,  as  he  approached  the 
forester’s  fair  granddaughter.  But  he  tarried  only  a 
moment  beside  her,  chucked  her  under  the  chin,  and 
whispering  a word  or  two  in  her  ear  that  heightened  her 
blushes,  passed  on  to  the  spot  where  the  two  jesters  were 
standing. 

“What  dost  thou  here,  knave?”  he  said  to  Will 
Sommers. 

“ I might  rather  ask  that  question  of  your  majesty,” 
replied  Will;  “and  I would  do  so,  but  that  I require  not 
to  be  told.” 

“ I have  come  to  see  what  passeth  in  my  household,” 
replied  the  king,  throwing  himself  into  the  chair  lately 
occupied  by  the  chief  cook.  “Ah!  Hob  and  Nob,  my 
merry  rascals,”  he  cried,  patting  the  turnspits  who  ran 
towards  him,  and  thrust  their  noses  against  his  hand, 
“ ye  are  as  gamesome  and  loving  as  ever,  I see.  Give  me 
a manchet  for  them,  master  cook,  and  let  not  the  pro- 
ceedings in  the  kitchen  be  stayed  for  my  presence,  I 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


215 


would  not  have  my  supper  delayed,  or  the  roasts  spoiled, 
for  any  false  ceremony.  And  now,  Will,  what  hast  thou 
to  say  that  thou  lookest  so  hard  at  me  ? ” 

“ I have  a heavy  charge  to  bring  against  this  knave, 
an’  please  your  majesty,”  replied  Will  Sommers,  pointing 
to  Patch. 

“ What ! hath  he  retorted  upon  thee  too  sharply  ? ” re- 
plied the  king,  laughing.  “ If  so,  challenge  him  to  the 
combat,  and  settle  the  grievance  with  thy  lathen  dagger. 
But  refer  not  the  matter  to  me.  I am  no  judge  in  fools’ 
quarrels.” 

“ Your  own  excepted,”  muttered  Will.  “This  is  not  a 
quarrel  that  can  be  so  adjusted,”  he  added  aloud.  “ I 
charge  this  rascal  Patch  with  speaking  disrespectfully  of 
your  highness  in  the  hearing  of  the  whole  kitchen.  And 
I also  charge  his  master,  the  cardinal,  with  having 
secreted  in  his  cellars  at  Hampton  a vast  amount  of  treas- 
ure, obtained  by  extortion,  privy  dealings  with  foreign 
powers,  and  other  iniquitous  practises,  and  which  ought 
of  right  to  find  its  way  to  your  royal  exchequer.” 

“ And  which  shall  find  its  way  thither,  if  thou  dost  not 
avouch  a fable,”  replied  the  king. 

“Your  majesty  shall  judge,”  rejoined  Will.  And  he 
repeated  the  story  which  he  had  just  before  related. 

“ Can  this  be  true  ? ” exclaimed  Henry,  at  its  close. 

“ It  is  false,  your  highness,  every  word  of  it,”  cried 
Patch,  throwing  himself  at  the  king’s  feet,  “ except  so 
far  as  relates  to  our  visit  to  the  cellar,  where,  I shame  to 
speak  of  it,  we  drank  so  much  that  our  senses  clean  for- 
sook us.  As  to  my  indiscreet  speech  touching  your 
majesty,  neither  disrespect  nor  disloyalty  were  intended 
by  it.  I was  goaded  to  the  rejoinder  by  the  sharp  sting 
of  this  hornet.” 

“ The  matter  of  the  treasure  shall  be  inquired  into  with- 
out delay,”  said  Henry.  « As  to  the  quarrel,  it  shall  be 


216 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


thus  settled.  Get  both  of  you  upon  that  table.  A flour 
bag  shall  be  given  to  each ; and  he  who  is  first  knocked 
off  shall  be  held  vanquished.” 

The  king’s  judgment  was  received  with  as  much  ap- 
plause as  dared  be  exhibited  by  the  hearers ; and  in  an 
instant,  the  board  was  cleared,  and  a couple  of  flour  bags, 
partly  filled,  delivered  to  the  combatants  by  Simon  Quan- 
den,  who  bestirred  himself  with  unwonted  activity  on 
the  occasion. 

Leaping  upon  the  table,  amid  the  smothered  mirth  of 
the  assemblage,  the  two  jesters  placed  themselves  oppo- 
site each  other,  and  grinned  such  comical  defiance  that 
the  king  roared  with  laughter.  After  a variety  of  odd 
movements  and  feints  on  either  side,  Patch  tried  to  bring 
down  his  adversary  by  a tremendous  two-handed  blow ; 
but  in  dealing  it,  the  weight  of  the  bag  dragged  him  for- 
ward, and  well-nigh  pitched  him  head-foremost  upon  the 
floor.  As  it  was,  he  fell  on  his  face  upon  the  table,  and 
in  this  position  received  several  heavy  blows  upon  the 
prominent  part  of  his  back  from  Will  Sommers.  Ere 
long,  however,  he  managed  to  regain  his  legs ; and  smart- 
ing with  pain,  attacked  his  opponent  furiously  in  his  turn. 
For  a short  space,  fortune  seemed  to  favor  him.  His 
bag  had  slightly  burst,  and  the  flour  showering  from  it 
with  every  blow,  well-nigh  blinded  his  adversary,  whom 
he  drove  to  the  very  edge  of  the  table.  At  this  critical 
juncture,  Will  managed  to  bring  down  his  bag  full  upon 
his  opponent’s  sconce,  and  the  force  of  the  blow  bursting 
it,  Patch  was  covered  from  crown  to  foot  with  flour,  and 
blinded  in  his  turn.  The  appearance  of  the  combatants 
was  now  so  exquisitely  ridiculous,  that  the  king  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  to  indulge  liis  laughter,  and  the  mirth 
of  the  spectators  could  no  longer  be  kept  within  deco- 
rous limits.  The  very  turnspits  barked  in  laughing 
concert, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


217 


“ Well  fought  on  both  sides  ! ” cried  Henry;  “it  were 
hard  to  say  which  will  prove  the  victor.  Now,  knaves, 
to  it  again — ha ! ha ! — to  it  again  ! 55 

Once  more  the  bags  were  wielded,  descended,  and  the 
blows  were  so  well  directed  on  either  side,  that  both  com- 
batants fell  backwards.  Again  the  king’s  laughter  rose 
loud  and  long.  Again  the  merriment  of  the  other  be- 
holders was  redoubled.  Again  Hob  and  Nob  barked  joy- 
ously, and  tried  to  spring  on  to  the  table  to  take  part  in 
the  conflict.  Amid  the  general  glee,  the  combatants  rose 
and  renewed  the  fight,  dealing  blows  thick  and  fast, — for 
the  bags  were  now  considerably  lightened  of  their  con- 
tents,— until  they  were  completely  hidden  from  view  by  a 
cloud  of  white  dust. 

“We  cannot  see  the  fray,”  remarked  Henry  ; “ but  we 
can  hear  the  din  of  battle.  Which  will  prove  the  victor, 
I marvel  ? ” 

“ I am  for  Will  Sommers,”  cried  Bouchier. 

“ And  I for  Patch,”  said  Simon  Quanden.  “ Latterly, 
he  hath  seemed  to  me  to  have  the  advantage.” 

“ It  is  decided  ! ” cried  the  king,  rising,  as  one  of  the 
combatants  was  knocked  off  the  table,  and  fell  to  the  floor 
with  a great  noise.  “ Who  is  it  ? ” 

“ Patch,”  replied  a faint  voice.  And  through  the  cloud 
of  dust  struggled  forth  the  forlorn  figure  of  the  cardinal’s 
jester,  while  Will  Sommers  leaped  triumphantly  to  the 
ground. 

“ Get  thee  to  a wash-tub,  knave,  and  cleanse  thyself,” 
said  Henry,  laughing.  “ In  consideration  of  the  punish- 
ment thou  hast  undergone,  I pardon  thee  thy  treasonable 
speech.” 

So  saying,  he  rose  and  walked  towards  Mabel,  who  had 
been  quite  as  much  alarmed  as  amused  by  the  scene 
which  had  just  taken  place. 

“ I hope  you  have  been  as  well  cared  for,  damsel,”  he 


218 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


said,  “ since  your  arrival  at  the  castle,  as  you  cared  for 
the  Duke  of  Suffolk  and  myself  when  we  visited  your 
cottage  ? ” 

“ I have  had  everything  I require,  my  liege,”  replied 
Mabel,  timidly. 

“ Dame  Quanden  will  take  charge  of  you  till  to-mor- 
row,” rejoined  the  king,  “ when  you  will  enter  upon  the 
service  of  one  our  dames.” 

“Your  majesty  is  very  considerate,”  said  Mabel — “but 
I would  rather  go  back  at  early  dawn  to  my  grandsire.” 

“That  is  needless,”  rejoined  the  king,  sternly.  “Your 
grandsire  is  in  the  castle.” 

“ I am  glad  to  hear  it,”  exclaimed  Mabel.  And  then 
altering  her  tone,  for  she  did  not  like  the  expression  of 
the  king’s  countenance,  she  added,  “ I hope  he  has  not  in- 
curred your  majesty’s  displeasure.” 

“ I trust  he  will  be  able  to  clear  himself,  Mabel,”  said 
Henry ; “ but  he  labors  under  the  grave  suspicion  of 
leaguing  with  lawless  men.” 

Mabel  shuddered  ; for  the  thought  of  what  she  had 
witnessed  on  the  previous  night  during  the  storm  rushed 
forcibly  to  her  recollection.  The  king  noticed  her  un- 
easiness, and  added,  in  a gentler  tone — “ If  he  makes  such 
confession  as  will  bring  the  others  to  justice,  he  has 
nothing  to  fear.  Dame  Quanden,  I commit  this  maiden 
to  your  charge.  To-morrow,  she  will  take  her  place  as 
attendant  to  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Fitzgerald.” 

So  saying,  he  moved  off  with  Bouchier  and  the  rest  of 
his  attendants,  leaving  Mabel  to  the  care  of  the  cook’s 
good-humored  spouse,  who  seeing  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  strove  to  cheer  her,  and  led  her  towards  a small 
side  table,  where  she  pressed  wine  and  cates  upon  her. 

“ Be  of  good  cheer,  sweetheart,”  she  said,  in  a soothing 
tone,  “no  harm  will  befall  your  grandfather.  You  are 
much  too  high  in  favor  with  the  king  for  that.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


219 


“ I liked  the  king  much  better  as  I saw  him  at  our 
cottage,  good  dame,”  replied  Mabel,  smiling  through 
her  tears — “ in  the  guise  of  a Guildford  merchant.  He 
seemed  scarcely  to  notice  me  just  now.” 

“ That  was  because  so  many  eyes  were  upon  you,  sweet- 
heart,” replied  Deborah ; “ but  sooth  to  say,  I should  be 
better  pleased  if  he  did  not  notice  you  at  all.” 

Mabel  blushed,  and  hung  her  head. 

“ I am  glad  you  are  to  be  an  attendant  on  the  Lady 
Elizabeth  Fitzgerald,”  pursued  Deborah,  “ for  she  is  the 
fairest  young  lady  at  court,  and  as  good  and  gentle  as  she 
is  fair,  and  I am  sure  you  will  find  her  a kind  mistress. 
I will  tell  you  something  about  her.  She  is  beloved  by 
the  king’s  son,  the  Duke  of  Richmond,  but  she  requites 
not  his  passion,  for  her  heart  is  fixed  on  the  youthful 
Earl  of  Surrey.  Alack  a day ! the  noble  rivals  quarreled, 
and  crossed  swords  about  her  ; but  as  luck  would  have 
it,  they  were  separated  before  any  mischief  was  done. 
The  king  was  very  wroth  with  Lord  Surrey,  and  ordered 
him  to  be  imprisoned  for  two  months  in  the  Round 
Tower,  in  this  castle,  where  he  is  now,  though  his  term 
has  very  nearly  expired.” 

“ How  I pity  him,  to  be  thus  harshly  treated,”  remarked 
Mabel,  her  eyes  swimming  with  tears,  “and  the  Lady 
Elizabeth  too ! I shall  delight  to  serve  her.” 

“ I am  told  the  Earl  passes  the  whole  of  his  time  in 
poring  over  books,  and  writing  love  verses  and  sonnets,” 
said  Deborah.  “It  seems  strange  that  one  so  young 
should  be  a poet ; but  I suppose  he  caught  the  art  from 
his  friend  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.” 

“Is  he  a friend  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat?”  asked  Mabel, 
quickly. 

“ His  close  friend,”  replied  Deborah ; “ except  the  Duke 
of  Richmond,  now  his  rival,  he  had  none  closer.  Have 
you  ever  seen  Sir  Thomas,  sweetheart  ? ” 


220 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


44  Yes,  for  a few  moments,”  replied  Mabel,  confusedly. 

44 1 heard  that  he  lingered  for  a short  time  in  the  forest 
before  his  departure  for  Paris,”  said  Dame  Quanden. 
44  There  was  a strange  rumor  that  he  had  joined  the 
band  of  Herne  the  Hunter.  But  that  must  have  been 
untrue.” 

44  Is  he  returned  from  France  ? ” inquired  Mabel,  with- 
out heeding  the  remark. 

44 1 fancy  not,”  replied  the  good  dame.  44  At  all  events, 
he  is  not  come  to  the  castle.  Know  you  not,”  she  added, 
in  a low  confidential  tone,  44  that  the  king  is  jealous  of 
him  ? He  was  a former  suitor  to  the  Lady  Anne  Boleyn, 
and  desperately  in  love  with  her ; and  it  is  supposed  that 
his  mission  to  France  was  only  a pretext  to  get  him  out 
of  the  way.” 

44 1 suspected  as  much,”  replied  Mabel.  44  Alas ! for  Sir 
Thomas,  and  alas ! for  the  Earl  of  Surrey.” 

44  And  alas ! for  Mabel  Lyndwood,  if  she  allows  her 
heart  to  be  fixed  upon  the  king,”  said  Deborah. 

While  this  was  passing,  the  business  of  the  kitchen, 
which  had  been  interrupted  by  the  various  incidents 
above  related,  and  especially  by  the  conflict  between  the 
two  jesters,  was  hurried  forward,  and  for  some  time  all 
was  bustle  and  confusion. 

But  as  soon  as  the  supper  was  served,  and  all  his  duties 
were  fully  discharged,  Simon  Quanden,  who  had  been 
bustling  about,  sat  down  in  his  easy-chair,  and  recruited 
himself  with  a toast  and  a sack-posset.  Hob  and  Nob 
had  their  supper  at  the  same  time,  and  the  party  at  the 
table,  which  had  been  increased  by  the  two  archers  and 
Nicholas  Clamp,  attacked  with  renewed  vigor  a fresh 
supply  of  mead  and  ale,  which  had  been  provided  for 
them  by  Jack  of  the  Bottles. 

The  conversation  then  turned  upon  Herne  the  Hunter, 
and  as  all  had  heard  more  or  less  about  him,  and  some 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


221 


had  seen  him,  while  few  knew  the  legend  connected  with 
him,  Hector  Cutbeard  volunteered  to  relate  it;  upon 
which  all  the  party  gathered  closer  together,  and  Mabel 
and  Deborah  left  off  talking,  and  drew  near  to  listen. 


222 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Wat  of  'gtxu  fht  'gmttx. 

“ Nearly  a century  and  a half  ago,”  commenced  Cut- 
beard,  “ about  the  middle  of  the  reign  of  Richard  the 
Second,  there  was  among  the  keepers  of  the  forest  a 
young  man  named  Herne.  He  was  expert  beyond  his 
fellows  in  all  matters  of  woodcraft,  and  consequently  in 
great  favor  with  the  king,  who  was  himself  devoted  to 
the  chase.  Whenever  he  stayed  at  the  castle,  King 
Richard,  like  our  own  royal  Harry,  would  pass  his  time 
in  hunting,  hawking,  or  shooting  with  the  long-bow;  and 
on  all  these  occasions  the  young  keeper  was  his  constant 
attendant.  If  a hart  was  to  be  chased,  Herne  and  his  two 
black  hounds  of  Saint  Hubert’s  breed  would  hunt  him 
down  with  marvelous  speed ; if  a wild  boar  was  to  be 
reared,  a badger  digged  out,  a fox  unkenneled,  a marten 
bayed,  or  an  otter  vented,  Herne  was  chosen  for  the  task. 
No  one  could  fly  a falcon  so  well  as  Herne, — no  one  could 
break  up  a deer  so  quickly  or  so  skilfully  as  him.  But  in 
proportion  as  he  grew  in  favor  with  the  king,  the  young 
keeper  was  hated  by  his  comrades,  and  they  concerted 
together  how  to  ruin  him.  All  their  efforts,  however, 
were  ineffectual,  and  rather  tended  to  his  advantage  than 
injury. 

“ One  day,  it  chanced  that  the  king  hunted  in  the  forest 
with  his  favorite,  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  when  a great  deer 
of  head  was  unharbored,  and  a tremendous  chase  ensued, 
the  hart  leading  his  pursuers  within  a few  miles  of 
Hungerford,  whither  the  borders  of  the  forest  then  ex- 
tended. All  the  followers  of  the  king,  even  the  Earl  of 
Oxford,  had  by  this  time  dropped  off,  and  the  royal  hunts- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


223 


man  was  only  attended  by  Herne,  who  kept  close  behind 
him.  At  last,  the  hart,  driven  to  desperation,  stood  at 
bay,  and  gored  the  king’s  horse  as  he  came  up  in  such 
manner  that  it  reared  and  threw  its  rider.  Another  in- 
stant, and  the  horns  of  the  infuriated  animal  would  have 
been  plunged  into  the  body  of  the  king,  if  Herne  had  not 
flung  himself  between  the  prostrate  monarch  and  his 
assailant,  and  received  the  stroke  intended  for  him. 
Though  desperately  wounded,  the  young  hunter  contrived 
slightly  to  raise  himself,  and  plunged  his  knife  into  the 
hart’s  throat,  while  the  king  regained  his  feet. 

“ Gazing  with  the  utmost  concern  at  his  unfortunate 
deliverer,  King  Richard  demanded  what  he  could  do  for 
him. 

“ ‘ Nothing,  sire — nothing,’  replied  Herne,  with  a groan. 
‘ 1 shall  require  nothing  but  a grave  from  you,  for  I have 
received  a wound  that  will  speedily  bring  me  to  it.’ 

“‘Not  so,  I trust,  good  fellow,’  replied  the  king,  in  a 
tone  meant  to  be  encouraging,  though  his  looks  showed 
that  his  heart  misgave  him ; ‘ my  best  leech  shall  attend 
you.’ 

“‘No  skill  will  avail  me  now,’  replied  Herne,  sadly. 
‘ A hurt  from  a hart’s  horn  bringeth  to  the  bier.’ 

“ ‘ I hope  the  proverb  will  not  be  justified  in  thy  case,’ 
rejoined  the  king;  ‘and  I promise  thee,  if  thou  dost  re- 
cover, thou  shalt  have  the  post  of  head  keeper  of  the 
forest,  with  twenty  nobles  a-year  for  wages.  If,  un- 
happily, thy  forebodings  are  realized,  I will  give  the  same 
sum  to  be  laid  out  in  masses  for  thy  soul.’ 

“ ‘ I humbly  thank  your  highness,’  replied  the  young 
man,  ‘ and  I accept  the  latter  offer,  seeing  it  is  the  only 
one  likely  to  profit  me.’ 

“ With  this,  he  put  his  horn  to  his  lips,  and  winding 
the  dead  mot  feebly,  fell  back  senseless.  Much  moved, 
the  king  rode  off  for  succor ; and  blowing  a lusty  call  on 


224: 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


his  bugle,  was  presently  joined  by  the  Earl  of  Oxford  and 
some  of  his  followers,  among  whom  were  the  keepers. 
The  latter  were  secretly  rejoiced  on  hearing  what  had 
befallen  Herne,  but  they  feigned  the  greatest  affliction, 
and  hastened  with  the  king  to  the  spot,  where  the  body 
was  lying  stretched  out  beside  that  of  the  hart. 

“ 4 It  is  almost  a pity  his  soul  cannot  pass  away  thus,’ 
said  King  Richard,  gazing  compassionately  at  him,  4 for 
he  will  only  revive  to  anguish  and  speedy  death.’ 

44 4 Your  highness  is  right,’  replied  the  chief  keeper,  a 
grim  old  man,  named  Osmond  Crooke,  kneeling  beside 
him,  and  half-drawing  his  hunting-knife,  “ it  were  better 
to  put  him  out  of  his  misery.’ 

44 6 What ! slay  the  man  who  has  just  saved  my  own 
life ! ’ cried  the  king.  4 1 will  consent  to  no  such  infamous 
deed.  I would  give  a large  reward  to  any  one  who  could 
cure  him.’ 

“ As  the  words  were  uttered,  a tall  dark  man,  in  a 
strange  garb,  and  mounted  on  a black  wild-looking  steed, 
whom  no  one  had  hitherto  observed,  sprang  to  the  ground, 
and  advanced  towards  the  king. 

“ 4 I take  your  offer,  sire,’  said  this  personage,  in  a harsh 
voice.  4 I will  cure  him.’ 

44  4 Who  art  thou,  fellow  ? ’ demanded  King  Richard, 
doubtfully. 

“ 4 1 am  a forester,’  replied  the  tall  man,  4 but  I under- 
stand somewhat  of  chirurgery  and  leechcraft.’ 

44  4 And  woodcraft  too,  I’ll  be  sworn,  fellow,’  said  the 
king.  4 Thou  hast,  or  I am  mistaken,  made  free  with 
some  of  my  venison.’ 

44  4 He  looks  marvelously  like  Arnold  Sheaf e,  who  was 
outlawed  for  deer-stealing,’  said  Osmond  Crooke,  regarding 
him  steadfastly. 

44  4 1 am  no  outlaw,  neither  am  I called  Arnold  Sheaf e,’ 
replied  the  other.  4 My  name  is  Philip  Urswick,  and  I 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


225 


can  render  a good  account  of  myself  when  it  shall  please 
the  king’s  highness  to  interrogate  me.  I dwell  on  the 
heath  near  Bagshot,  which  you  passed  to-day  in  the  chase, 
and  where  I joined  you.’ 

“ 4 I noted  you  not,’  said  Osmond. 

“ 4 Nor  I — nor  I ! ’ cried  the  other  keepers. 

64  4 That  may  be ; but  I saw  you,’  rejoined  Urswick, 
contemptuously ; 4 and  I tell  you  there  is  not  one  among 
you  to  be  compared  with  the  brave  hunter  who  lies  there. 
You  have  all  pronounced  his  case  hopeless.  I repeat  I 
can  cure  him  if  the  king  will  make  it  worth  my  while.’ 

44  4 Make  good  thy  words,  fellow,’  replied  the  king ; 4 and 
thou  shalt  not  only  be  amply  rewarded,  but  shalt  have  a 
free  pardon  for  any  offense  thou  mayst  have  committed.’ 

44  4 Enough,’  replied  Urswick.  And  taking  a large, 
keen-edged  hunting-knife  from  his  girdle,  he  cut  off  the 
head  of  the  hart  close  to  the  point  where  the  neck  joins 
the  skull,  and  then  laid  it  open  from  the  extremity  of  the 
under-lip  to  the  nuke.  4 This  must  be  bound  on  the  head 
of  the  wounded  man,’  he  said. 

44  The  keepers  stared  in  astonishment.  But  the  king 
commanded  that  the  strange  order  should  be  obeyed. 
Upon  which,  the  bleeding  skull  was  fastened  upon  the 
head  of  the  keeper,  with  leathern  thongs. 

44  4 1 will  now  answer  for  his  perfect  cure  in  a month’s 
time,’  said  Urswick  to  the  king  ; 4 but  I shall  require  to 
watch  over  him  myself  till  all  danger  is  at  an  end.  I pray 
your  highness  to  command  these  keepers  to  transport  him 
to  my  hut.’ 

44  4 You  hear  what  he  says,  knaves,’  cried  the  king — 4 do 
his  bidding,  and  carefully,  or  ye  shall  answer  to  me  with 
your  lives.’ 

44  Accordingly,  a litter  was  formed  with  branches  of 
trees,  and  on  this  the  body  of  Herne,  with  the  hart’s  head 
still  bound  to  it,  was  conveyed  by  the  keepers  to  Urs wick’s 


226 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


hut, — a small  dwelling,  situated  in  the  wildest  part  of 
Bagshot  Heath.  After  placing  the  body  upon  a bed  of 
dried  fern,  the  keepers  were  about  to  depart,  when 
Osmond  Crooke  observed  to  the  forester,  4 I am  now  cer- 
tain thou  art  Arnold  Sheafe.’ 

“ 4 It  matters  not  who  I am,  since  I have  the  king’s 
pardon,’  replied  the  other,  laughing  disdainfully. 

“ 4 Thou  hast  yet  to  earn  it,’  said  Osmond. 

444  Leave  that  to  me,’  replied  Urswick.  4 There  is  more 
fear  that  thou  will  lose  thy  post  as  chief  keeper,  which 
the  king  has  promised  to  Herne,  than  that  I shall  fail.’ 

“ 4 Would  the  deer  had  killed  him  outright!’  growled 
Osmond. 

“And  the  savage  wish  was  echoed  by  the  other 
keepers. 

“‘I  see  you  all  hate  him  bitterly,’ said  Urswick.  What 
will  ye  give  me  for  revenge  ? ’ 

<uWe  have  little  to  give,  save  a fat  buck  on  occasions,’ 
replied  Osmond  ; 4 and,  in  all  likelihood,  thou  canst  help 
thyself  to  venison. 

“‘Will  you  swear  to  grant  the  first  request  I may 
make  of  you, — provided  it  shall  be  in  your  power  ? ’ de- 
manded Urswick. 

“ 4 Readily,’  they  replied. 

44  4 Enough,’  said  Urswick.  4 1 must  keep  faith  with  the 
king.  Herne  will  recover,  but  he  will  lose  all  his  skill  as 
an  archer, — all  his  craft  as  a hunter.’ 

44  4 If  thou  canst  accomplish  this  thou  art  the  fiend  him- 
self ! ’ cried  Osmond,  trembling. 

“‘Fiend  or  not,’  replied  Urswick,  with  a triumphant 
laugh,  4 ye  have  made  a compact  with  me,  and  must 
fulfil  it.  Now  begone.  I must  attend  to  the  wounded 
man.’ 

“ And  the  keepers,  full  of  secret  misgiving,  departed. 

“At  the  precise  time  promised,  Herne,  attended  by 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


227 


Urswick,  presented  himself  to  the  king.  He  looked  thin 
and  pale,  but  all  danger  was  past.  King  Richard  gave 
the  forester  a purse  full  of  nobles,  and  added  a silver 
bugle  to  the  gift.  He  then  appointed  Herne  his  chief 
keeper ; hung  a chain  of  gold  round  his  neck ; and  ordered 
him  to  be  lodged  in  the  castle. 

“ About  a week  after  this,  Herne,  having  entirely  re- 
gained his  strength,  accompanied  the  king  on  a hunting 
expedition  to  the  forest,  and  they  had  scarcely  entered  it, 
when  his  horse  started,  and  threw  him.  Up  to  that  mo- 
ment, such  an  accident  had  never  happened  to  him,  for  he 
was  an  excellent  horseman ; and  he  arose  greatly  discom- 
fited, while  the  keepers  eyed  each  other  askance.  Soon 
after  this,  a buck  was  started ; and  though  Herne  was 
bravely  mounted  on  a black  steed  bestowed  on  him  on  ac- 
count of  its  swiftness  by  the  king,  he  was  the  last  in  the 
chase. 

“ 4 Thou  art  out  of  practise,’  said  the  king,  laughing,  as 
he  came  up. 

“ 6 1 know  not  what  ails  me,’  replied  Herne,  gloomily. 

“ 4 It  cannot  be  thy  steed’s  fault,’  said  the  king  ; 4 for  he 
is  usually  as  fleet  as  the  wind.  But  I will  give  thee  an 
opportunity  of  gaining  credit  in  another  way.  Thou  seest 
yon  buck.  He  cannot  be  seventy  yards  off ; and  I have 
seen  thee  hit  the  mark  at  twice  the  distance.  Bring  him 
down.’ 

“ Herne  raised  his  crossbow,  and  let  fly  the  bolt ; but 
it  missed  its  mark,  and  the  buck,  startled  by  the  noise, 
dashed  down  the  brake,  wholly  uninjured. 

44  King  Richard’s  brow  grew  dark,  and  Herne  uttered 
an  exclamation  of  rage  and  despair. 

44  4 Thou  shalt  have  a third,  and  yet  easier  trial,’  said 
the  king.  4 Old  Osmond  Crooke  shall  lend  thee  his  bow, 
and  thy  quarry  shall  be  yon  magot-pie.’ 

44  As  he  spoke,  the  arrow  sped.  But  it  quivered 


228 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


in  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  some  yards  from  the  bird.  The 
unfortunate  shooter  looked  distracted  ; but  King  Richard 
made  no  remark,  until,  towards  the  close  of  the  day,  he 
said  to  him,  4 Thou  must  regain  thy  craft,  friend  Herne, 
or  I cannot  continue  thee  as  my  chief  keeper.’ 

44  The  keepers  congratulated  each  other  in  secret,  for 
they  felt  that  their  malice  was  about  to  be  gratified. 

44  The  next  day,  Herne  went  forth,  as  he  thought,  alone, 
but  he  was  watched  by  his  enemies.  Not  a shaft  would 
go  true,  and  he  found  that  he  had  completely  lost  his 
mastery  over  hound  and  horse.  The  day  after  that,  he 
again  rode  forth  to  hunt  with  the  king,  and  his  failures 
made  him  the  laughing-stock  of  the  party.  Richard,  at 
length,  dismissed  him  with  these  words — 4 Take  repose 
for  a week,  and  then  thou  shalt  have  a further  trial.  If 
thou  dost  not  then  succeed,  I must,  perforce,  discharge 
thee  from  thy  post.’ 

44  Instead  of  returning  to  the  castle,  Herne  rode  off 
wildly  into  the  forest,  where  he  remained  till  eventide. 
He  then  returned  with  ghastly  looks  and  a strange  ap- 
pearance,— having  the  links  of  a rusty  chain  which  he 
had  plucked  from  a gibbet  hanging  from  his  left  arm,  and 
the  hart’s  antlered  skull,  which  he  had  procured  from 
Urswick,  fixed  like  a helm  upon  his  head.  His  whole 
demeanor  showed  that  he  was  crazed  ; and  his  condition, 
which  might  have  moved  the  compassion  of  his  foes,  only 
provoked  their  laughter.  After  committing  the  wildest 
extravagances,  he  burst  from  all  restraint,  and  disappeared 
among  the  trees  of  the  Home  Park. 

44  An  hour  after  this  a pedler,  who  was  crossing  the 
park  from  Hatchet,  found  him  suspended  by  a rope  from 
a branch  of  the  oak  tree  which  you  have  all  seen,  and 
which  bears  his  name.  Despair  had  driven  him  to  the 
dreadful  deed.  Instead  of  cutting  him  down,  the  pedler 
ran  to  the  castle  to  relate  what  he  had  L witnessed ; and 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


229 


the  keepers,  satisfied  that  their  revenge  was  now  fully 
accomplished,  hastened  with  him  to  the  tree.  But  the 
body  was  gone ; and  all  that  proclaimed  it  had  been  there, 
was  the  rope  hanging  from  the  branch.  Search  was 
everywhere  made  for  the  missing  bod}q  but  without 
effect.  When  the  matter  was  related  to  the  king,  he 
was  much  troubled,  and  would  fain  have  had  masses  said 
for  the  repose  of  the  soul  of  the  unfortunate  keeper, 
but  the  priest  refused  to  perform  them,  alleging  that  he 
had  committed  self-destruction,  and  was  therefore  out  of 
the  pale  of  the  church. 

“ On  that  night,  a terrible  thunder-storm  occurred — as 
terrible,  it  may  be,  as  that  of  last  night — and  during  its 
continuance,  the  oak  on  which  Herne  had  hanged  himself 
was  blasted  by  the  lightning. 

“ Old  Osmond  was  immediately  reinstated  in  his  post  of 
chief  keeper;  but  he  had  little  time  for  rejoicing,  for  he 
found  that  the  same  spell  that  had  bound  Herne  had 
fallen  upon  him.  His  bolts  and  arrows  went  wide  of 
their  mark,  his  hounds  lost  their  scent,  and  his  falcon 
would  not  be  lured  back.  Half-frantic,  and  afraid  of  ex- 
posing himself  to  the  taunts  of  his  companions,  he  feigned 
illness,  and  left  his  comrade,  Roger  Barfoot,  to  take  his 
place.  But  the  same  ill  luck  befell  Barfoot,  and  he  re- 
turned in  woful  plight,  without  a single  head  of  game. 
Four  others  were  equally  unfortunate,  and  it  was  now 
clear  that  the  whole  party  were  bewitched. 

“ Luckily,  the  king  had  quitted  the  castle,  but  they  felt 
certain  they  should  be  dismissed  on  his  return,  if  not 
more  severely  punished.  At  last,  after  taking  counsel 
together,  they  resolved  to  consult  Urswick,  who  they 
doubted  not  could  remove  the  spell.  Accordingly,  they 
went  to  Bagshot  Heath,  and  related  their  story  to  him. 
When  they  had  done,  he  said — 4 The  curse  of  Herne’s 
blood  is  upon  you,  and  can  only  be  removed  in  one  way. 


230 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


As  you  return  to  the  castle,  go  to  the  tree  on  which  he 
destroyed  himself,  and  you  may  learn  how  to  act.’ 

“ The  keepers  would  have  questioned  him  further,  but 
he  refused  to  answer,  and  dismissed  them. 

“ The  shades  of  evening  had  fallen  as  they  quitted 
Bagshot  and  it  was  midnight  as  they  entered  the  Home 
Park,  and  proceeded  towards  the  fatal  oak.  It  was  pitchy 
dark ; and  they  could  only  distinguish  the  tree  by  its 
white,  scathed  trunk.  All  at  once,  a blue  flame,  like  a 
will-o’-the-wisp,  appeared,  flitted  thrice  round  the  tree, 
and  then  remained  stationary,  its  light  falling  upon  a 
figure  in  a wild  garb,  with  a rusty  chain  hanging  from 
its  left  arm,  and  an  antlered  helm  upon  its  head.  They 
knew  it  to  be  Herne,  and  instantly  fell  down  before  him, 
while  a burst  of  terrible  laughter  sounded  in  their  ears. 

“Without  heeding  them  further,  the  spirit  darted 
round  the  tree,  rattling  its  chain,  and  uttering  appalling 
imprecations.  It  then  stopped,  and  turning  to  the  terri- 
fied beholders,  bade  them,  in  a hollow  voice,  bring  hounds 
and  horses  as  for  the  chase  on  the  following  night,  and 
vanished. 

“ Filled  with  dread,  the  keepers  returned  home,  and 
the  next  day,  old  Osmond  again  sought  the  forester,  and 
told  him  what  had  occurred. 

“‘You  must  obey  the  spirit’s  injunctions,  or  worse 
mischief  will  befall  you,’  said  Urswick.  ‘ Go  to  the  tree, 
mounted  as  for  a hunting-party,  and  take  the  black  steed 
given  to  Herne  by  the  king,  and  the  two  black  hounds 
with  you.  You  will  see  what  will  ensue.’  And  without 
another  word,  he  dismissed  him. 

“ Osmond  told  his  comrades  what  the  forester  had  said, 
and  though  they  were  filled  with  alarm,  they  resolved 
upon  compliance.  At  midnight,  therefore,  they  rode 
towards  the  tree  with  the  black  hounds  in  leash,  and 
leading  Herne’s  favorite  horse,  saddled  and  bridled. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


231 


As  they  drew  near,  they  again  saw  the  terrible  shape 
stalking  round  the  tree,  and  heard  the  fearful  impre- 
cations. 

“ His  spells  ended,  Herne  called  to  Osmond  to  bring 
him  his  steed ; and  the  old  man  tremblingly  obeyed.  In 
an  instant,  the  mysterious  being  vaulted  on  its  back,  and 
in  a voice  of  resistless  authority,  cried — 4 To  the  forest ! — 
to  the  forest ! ’ With  this,  he  dashed  forward,  and  the 
whole  party,  hounds  and  men,  hurried  after  him. 

“ They  rode  at  a furious  pace  for  five  or  six  miles  over 
the  Great  Park,  the  keepers  wondering  where  their  un- 
earthly leader  was  taking  them,  and  almost  fancying 
they  were  hurrying  to  perdition,  when  they  descended  a 
hillside  leading  to  the  marsh,  and  halted  before  a huge 
beech-tree,  where  Herne  dismounted  and  pronounced 
certain  mystic  words,  accompanying  them  with  strange 
gestures. 

“ Presently,  he  became  silent  and  motionless.  A flash 
of  fire  then  burst  from  the  roots  of  the  tree,  and  the 
forester  IJrswick  stood  before  him.  But  his  aspect  was 
more  terrible  and  commanding  than  it  had  seemed  here- 
tofore to  the  keepers. 

“ 6 Welcome,  Herne,’  he  cried;  4 welcome,  lord  of  the 
forest.  And  you  his  comrades,  and  soon  to  be  his  follow- 
ers, welcome  too.  The  time  is  come  for  the  fulfilment  of 
your  promise  to  me.  I require  you  to  form  a band  for 
Herne  the  Hunter,  and  to  serve  him  as  leader.  Swear  to 
obey  him,  and  the  spell  that  hangs  over  you  shall  be 
broken.  If  not,  I leave  you  to  the  king’s  justice.’ 

“Not  daring  to  refuse  compliance,  the  keepers  took  the 
oath  proposed, — and  a fearful  one  it  was ! As  soon  as  it 
was  uttered,  Urswick  vanished,  as  he  came,  in  a flash  of 
fire.  Herne  then  commanded  the  others  to  dismount,  and 
made  them  prostrate  themselves  before  him,  and  pay  him 
homage.  This  done,  he  blew  a strike  on  his  horn,  rode 


232 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


swiftly  up  the  hillside,  and  a stag  being  unharbored,  the 
chase  commenced.  Many  a fat  buck  was  hunted  and 
slaughtered  that  night ; and  an  hour  before  daybreak, 
Herne  commanded  them  to  lay  the  four  finest  and  fattest 
at  the  foot  of  the  beech-tree,  and  then  dismissed  them, 
bidding  them  meet  him  at  midnight  at  the  scathed  oak  in 
the  Home  Park. 

“ They  came  as  they  were  commanded  ; but  fearful  of 
detection,  they  adopted  strange  disguises,  not  unlike  those 
worn  by  the  caitiffs  who  were  put  to  death,  a few  weeks 
ago,  by  the  king  in  the  Great  Park.  Night  after  night, 
they  thus  went  forth,  thinning  the  herds  of  deer,  and 
committing  other  outrages  and  depredations.  Nor  were 
their  dark  proceedings  altogether  unnoticed.  Belated 
travelers  crossing  the  forest  beheld  them,  and  related 
what  they  had  seen ; others  watched  for  them,  but  they 
were  so  effectually  disguised  that  they  escaped  detection. 

“ At  last,  however,  the  king  returned  to  the  castle,  and 
accounts  of  the  strange  doings  in  the  forest  were  instantly 
brought  him.  Astonished  at  what  he  heard,  and  deter- 
mined to  acertain  the  truth  of  the  statement,  he  ordered 
the  keepers  to  attend  him  that  night  in  an  expedition  to 
the  forest,  when  he  hoped  to  encounter  the  demon  hunts- 
man and  his  band.  Much  alarmed,  Osmond  Crooke,  who 
acted  as  spokesman,  endeavored,  by  representing  the  risk 
he  would  incur,  to  dissuade  the  king  from  the  enterprise  ; 
but  he  would  not  be  deterred,  and  they  now  gave  them- 
selves up  for  lost. 

“ As  the  castle  clock  tolled  forth  the  hour  of  midnight, 
Richard,  accompanied  by  a numerous  guard,  and  attended 
by  the  keepers,  issued  from  the  gates,  and  rode  towards 
the  scathed  oak.  As  they  drew  near  the  tree,  the  figure 
of  Herne,  mounted  on  his  black  steed,  was  discerned  be- 
neath it.  Deep  fear  fell  upon  all  the  beholders,  but  chiefly 
upon  the  guilty  keepers,  at  the  sight.  The  king,  how- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  233 

ever,  pressed  forward,  and  cried,  4 Why  dost  thou  disturb 
the  quietude  of  night,  accursed  spirit  ? 5 

“ 4 Because  I desire  vengeance ! ’ replied  Herne,  in  a 
hollow  voice.  4 1 was  brought  to  my  present  woful  con- 
dition by  Osmond  Crooke  and  his  comrades.5 

44  4 But  you  died  by  your  own  hand, — did  you  not  ? 5 de- 
manded King  Richard. 

44  4 Yea,5  replied  Herne  ; 4 but  I was  driven  to  the  deed 
by  an  infernal  spell  laid  upon  me  by  the  malice  of  the 
wretches  I have  denounced.  Hang  them  upon  this  tree, 
and  I will  trouble  these  woods  no  longer  while  thou 
reignest ! 5 

44  The  king  looked  round  at  the  keepers.  They  all  re- 
mained obdurate,  except  Roger  Barfoot,  who,  falling  on 
his  knees,  confessed  his  guilt,  and  accused  the  others. 

44  4 It  is  enough,5  cried  the  king  to  Herne  ; 4 they  shall 
all  suffer  for  their  offense.55 

44  Upon  this,  a flash  of  fire  enveloped  the  spirit  and  his 
horse,  and  he  vanished. 

44  The  king  kept  his  word.  Osmond  and  his  comrades 
were  all  hanged  upon  the  scathed  tree,  nor  was  Herne 
seen  again  in  the  forest  while  Richard  sat  upon  the  throne. 
But  he  reappeared  with  a new  band  at  the  commencement 
of  the  rule  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  and  again  hunted  the 
deer  at  night.  His  band  was  destroyed,  but  he  defied  all 
attempts  at  capture ; and  so  it  has  continued  to  our  own 
time,  for  not  one  of  the  seven  monarchs  who  have  held 
the  castle  since  Richard’s  day,  have  been  able  to  drive 
him  from  the  forest.” 

44  Nor  will  the  present  monarch  be  able  to  drive  him 
thence,”  said  a deep  voice.  44  As  long  as  Windsor  Forest 
endures,  Herne  the  Hunter  will  haunt  it.” 

All  turned  at  the  exclamation,  and  saw  that  it  proceeded 
from  a tall  dark  man,  in  an  archer’s  garb,  standing  behind 
Simon  Quanden’s  chair. 


234 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Thou  hast  told  thy  legend  fairly  enough,  good  clerk 
of  the  kitchen,”  continued  this  personage;  “ but  thou  art 
wrong  on  many  material  points.” 

“ I have  related  the  story  as  it  was  related  to  me,”  said 
Cutbeard,  somewhat  nettled  at  the  remark  ; “ but  perhaps 
you  will  set  me  right  where  I have  erred.” 

“ It  is  true  that  Herne  was  a keeper  in  the  reign  of 
Richard  the  Second,”  replied  the  tall  archer.  “ It  is  true 
also  that  he  was  expert  in  all  matters  of  woodcraft,  and 
that  he  was  in  high  favor  with  the  king;  but  he  was 
bewitched  by  a lovely  damsel,  and  not  by  a weird  forester. 
He  carried  off  a nun,  and  dwelt  with  her  in  a cave  in  the 
forest,  where  he  assembled  his  brother  keepers,  and  treated 
them  to  the  king’s  venison  and  the  king’s  wine.” 

“ A sacrilegious  villain  and  a reprobate ! ” exclaimed 
Launcelot  Rutter. 

“His  mistress  was  fair  enough,  I will  warrant  her,” 
said  Kit  Coo. 

“ She  was  the  very  image  of  this  damsel,”  rejoined  the 
tall  archer,  pointing  to  Mabel,  “ and  fair  enough  to  work 
his  ruin,  for  it  was  through  her  that  the  fiend  tempted 
him.  The  charms  that  proved  his  undoing  were  fatal 
to  her  also,  for  in  a fit  of  jealousy  he  slew  her.  The  re- 
morse occasioned  by  this  deedj  made  him  destroy  him- 
self.” 

“Well,  your  version  of  the  legend  may  be  the  correct 
one,  for  aught  I know,  worthy  sir,”  said  Cutbeard ; “ but 
I see  not  that  it  accounts  for  Herne’s  antlers  so  well  as 
mine ; unless  indeed  he  were  wedded  to  the  nun,  who 
you  say  played  him  false.  But  how  come  you  to  know 
she  resembled  Mabel  Lyndwood  ? ” 

“ Ay,  I was  thinking  of  that  myself,”  said  Simon 
Quanden.  “ How  do  you  know  that,  master  ? ” 

“ Because  I have  seen  her  picture,”  replied  the  tall 
archer. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  235 

“ Painted  by  Satan’s  chief  limner,  I suppose?”  rejoined 
Cutbeard. 

“ He  who  painted  it  had  seen  her,”  replied  the  tall 
archer,  sternly.  “ But,  as  I have  said,  it  was  the  very 
image  of  this  damsel.” 

And  as  he  uttered  the  words,  he  quitted  the  kitchen. 

“Who  is  that  archer?”  demanded  Cutbeard,  looking 
after  him. 

But  no  one  could  answer  the  question,  nor  could  any 
one  tell  when  he  had  entered  the  kitchen. 

“ Strange ! ” exclaimed  Simon  Quanden,  crossing  him- 
self. “ Have  you  ever  seen  him  before,  Mabel  ? ” 

“ I almost  think  I have,”  she  replied,  with  a slight 
shudder. 

“ I half  suspect  he  is  Herne  himself,”  whispered  Shore- 
ditch to  Paddington. 

“ It  may  be,”  responded  the  other ; “ his  glance  made 
my  blood  run  cold.” 

“ You  look  somewhat  fatigued,  sweetheart,”  said  Debo- 
rah, observing  Mabel’s  uneasiness.  “ Come  with  me 
and  I will  show  you  to  a chamber.” 

Glad  to  escape,  Mabel  followed  the  good  dame  out  of 
the  kitchen,  and  they  ascended  a winding  staircase,  which 
brought  them  to  a commodious  chamber  in  the  upper 
part  of  Henry  the  Seventh’s  buildings,  where  Deborah 
sat  down  with  her  young  charge,  and  volunteered  a great 
deal  of  good  advice  to  her,  which  the  other  listened  to 
with  becoming  attention,  and  promised  to  profit  by  it. 


236 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF  THE  MYSTERIOUS  NOISE  HEARD  IN  THE  CURFEW  TOWER. 

On  quitting  the  kitchen,  Henry,  having  been  informed 
by  Bouchier  that  Tristram  Lyndwood  was  lodged  in  the 
prison-chamber  in  the  lower  gateway,  proceeded  thither 
to  question  him.  He  found  the  old  man  seated  on  a 
bench,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  him  ; but  though 
evidently  much  alarmed  at  his  situation,  he  could  not  be 
brought  either  by  threats  or  proffers,  to  make  any  con- 
fession. 

Out  of  patience,  at  length,  the  king  ordered  him  to  be 
conveyed  to  the  dungeon  beneath  the  Curfew  Tower,  and 
personally  superintended  his  removal. 

“ I will  find  a means  of  shaking  his  obstinacy,”  said 
Henry,  as  he  quitted  the  vault  with  Bouchier.  “ If  I can- 
not move  him  by  other  means,  I may  through  his  grand- 
daughter. I will  interrogate  him  in  her  presence  to- 
night.” 

“ To-night,  sire  ! ” exclaimed  Bouchier. 

“ Ay,  to-night,”  repeated  the  king.  “ I am  resolved, 
even  if  it  should  cost  the  life  of  this  maiden,  whose  charms 
have  moved  me  so,  to  break  the  infernal  machinery  woven 
around  me.  And  now  as  I think  it  not  unlikely  the  mis- 
creant Herne  may  attempt  the  prisoner’s  deliverance,  let 
the  strictest  watch  be  kept  over  the  tower.  Station  an 
arquebusier  throughout  the  night  at  the  door  of  the 
dungeon,  and  another  at  the  entrance  to  the  chamber  on 
the  ground  floor.  Your  own  post  must  be  on  the  roof  of 
the  fortification,  that  you  may  watch  if  any  attempt  is 
made  to  scale  it  from  the  town  side,  or  to  get  in  through 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  237 

the  loopholes.  Keep  a sharp  look-out,  Bouchier,  for  I 
shall  hold  you  responsible  if  any  mischance  occurs.” 

“ I will  do  my  best,  my  liege,”  replied  Bouchier ; 64  and 
were  it  with  a mortal  foe  I had  to  contend,  I should  have 
no  fear.  But  what  vigilance  can  avail  against  a fiend  ? ” 

44  You  have  heard  my  injunctions,  and  will  attend  to 
them,”  rejoined  the  king,  harshly.  44 1 shall  return  anon 
to  the  examination.” 

So  saying,  he  departed. 

Brave  as  a lion  on  ordinary  occasions,  Bouchier  entered 
upon  his  present  duty  with  reluctance  and  misgiving ; 
and  he  found  the  arquebusiers,  by  whom  he  was  attended, 
albeit  stout  soldiers,  equally  uneasy.  Herne  had  now  be- 
come an  object  of  general  dread  throughout  the  castle ; 
and  the  possibility  of  an  encounter  with  him  was  enough 
to  daunt  the  boldest  breast.  Disguising  his  alarm, 
Bouchier  issued  his  directions  in  an  authoritative  tone, 
and  then  mounted  with  three  arquebusiers  to  the  summit 
of  the  tower.  It  was  now  dark,  but  the  moon  soon  arose, 
and  her  beams  rendered  every  object  as  distinguishable 
as  daylight  would  have  done,  so  that  watch  was  easily 
kept.  But  nothing  occurred  to  occasion  alarm,  until  all 
at  once,  a noise,  like  that  of  a hammer  stricken  against  a 
board,  was  heard  in  the  chamber  below. 

Drawing  his  sword,  Bouchier  hurried  down  the  steps 
leading  into  this  chamber,  which  was  buried  in  darkness, 
and  advanced  so  precipitately  and  incautiously  in  the 
gloom,  that  he  struck  his  head  against  a cross  beam.  The 
violence  of  the  blow  stunned  him  for  a moment,  but  as 
soon  as  he  recovered,  he  called  to  the  guard  in  the  lower 
chamber  to  bring  up  a torch.  The  order  was  promptly 
obeyed;  but,  meanwhile,  the  sound  had  ceased,  and, 
though  they  searched  about,  they  could  not  discover  the 
occasion  of  it. 

This,  however,  was  not  so  wonderful,  for  the  singular 


238 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


construction  of  the  chamber,  with  its  numerous  cross- 
beams, its  deep  embrasures  and  recesses,  its  insecure  and 
uneven  floor,  its  steep  ladder-like  staircases,  was  highly 
favorable  to  concealment,  it  being  utterly  impossible, 
owing  to  the  intersections  of  the  beams,  for  the  searchers 
to  see  far  before  them,  or  to  move  about  quickly.  In  the 
midst  of  the  chamber  was  a large  wooden  compartment 
enclosing  the  cumbrous  and  uncouth  machinery  of  the 
castle  clock,  and  through  this  box  ran  the  cord  communi- 
cating with  the  belfry  above.  At  that  time,  pieces  of 
ordnance  were  mounted  in  all  the  embrasures,  but  there 
is  now  only  one  gun,  placed  in  a port- hole  commanding 
Thames  Street,  and  the  long  thoroughfare  leading  to 
Eton.  The  view  from  this  port-hole  of  the  groves  of 
Eton,  and  of  the  lovely  plains  on  the  northwest,  watered 
by  the  river,  is  enchanting  beyond  description. 

Viewed  from  a recess  which  has  been  partly  closed,  the 
appearance  of  this  chamber  is  equally  picturesque  and 
singular ; and  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  pass  beneath  its 
huge  beams,  or  to  gaze  at  the  fantastic,  yet  striking  com- 
binations they  form  in  connection  with  the  deep  em- 
brasures, the  steep  staircases,  and  trap-doors,  and  not  feel 
that  the  whole  place  belongs  to  romance,  and  that  a mul- 
titude of  strange  and  startling  stories  must  be  connected 
with  it.  The  old  architects  were  indeed  great  romancers, 
and  built  for  the  painter  and  the  poet. 

Bouchier  and  his  companion  crept  about  under  the  great 
mesh- work  of  beams — peered  into  all  the  embrasures,  and 
beneath  the  carriages  of  the  culverins.  There  was  a 
heap  of  planks  and  beams  lying  on  the  floor  between  the 
two  staircases,  but  no  one  was  near  it. 

The  result  of  their  investigations  did  not  tend  to  de- 
crease their  alarm.  Bouchier  would  fain  have  had  the 
man  keep  watch  in  the  chamber,  but  neither  threats 
nor  entreaties  could  induce  him  to  remain  there.  He  was 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


239 


therefore  sent  below,  and  the  captain  returned  to  the  roof. 
He  had  scarcely  emerged  upon  the  leads  when  the  ham- 
mering recommenced  more  violently  than  before.  In  vain 
Bouchier  ordered  his  men  to  go  down.  No  one  would 
stir;  and  superstitious  fear  had  by  this  time  obtained 
such  mastery  over  the  captain,  that  he  hesitated  to  de- 
scend alone.  To  add  to  his  vexation,  the  arquebusier  had 
taken  the  torch  with  him  so  that  he  should  have  to  pro- 
ceed in  darkness.  At  length,  he  mustered  up  courage  to 
make  the  attempt;  but  he  paused  between  each  step, 
peering  through  the  gloom,  and  half-fancying  he  could 
discern  the  figure  of  Herne  near  the  spot  where  the  pile 
of  wood  lay.  Certain  it  was  that  the  sound  of  diabolical 
laughter,  mingled  with  the  rattling  of  the  chain  and  the 
sharp  blows  of  the  hammer,  smote  his  ears.  The  laughter 
became  yet  louder  as  Bouchier  advanced,  the  hammering 
ceased,  and  the  clanking  of  the  chain  showed  that  its 
mysterious  wearer  was  approaching  the  foot  of  the  steps 
to  meet  him.  But  the  captain  had  not  nerve  enough  for 
the  encounter.  Invoking  the  protection  of  the  saints,  he 
beat  a precipitate  retreat,  and  closed  the  little  door  at  the 
head  of  the  steps  after  him. 

The  demon  was  apparently  satisfied  with  the  alarm  he 
had  occasioned,  for  the  hammering  was  not  renewed  at 
that  time. 


240 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  Vni. 

SHOWING  THE  VACILLATIONS  OF  THE  KING  BETWEEN 
WOLSEY  AND  ANNE  BOLEYN. 

Before  returning  to  the  state  apartments,  Henry  took 
a turn  on  the  ramparts  on  the  north  side  of  the  castle, 
between  the  Curfew  Tower  and  the  Winchester  Tower, 
and  lingered  for  a short  time  on  the  bastion  commanding 
that  part  of  the  acclivity  where  the  approach,  called  the 
Hundred  Steps,  is  now  contrived.  Here  he  cautioned  the 
sentinels  to  be  doubly  vigilant  throughout  the  night,  and 
having  gazed  for  a moment  at  the  placid  stream  flowing 
at  the  foot  of  the  castle,  and  tinged  with  the  last  rays  of 
the  setting  sun,  he  proceeded  to  the  royal  lodgings,  and 
entered  the  banquet-chamber,  where  supper  was  already 
served. 

Wolsey  sat  on  his  right  hand,  but  he  did  not  vouchsafe 
him  a single  word, — addressing  the  whole  of  his  discourse 
to  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  who  was  placed  on  his  left.  As 
soon  as  the  repast  was  over,  he  retired  to  his  closet.  But 
the  cardinal  would  not  be  so  repulsed,  and  sent  one  of  his 
gentlemen  to  crave  a moment’s  audience  of  the  king, 
which,  with  some  reluctance,  was  accorded. 

“ Well,  cardinal ! ” cried  Henry,  as  Wolsey  presented 
himself,  and  the  usher  withdrew.  “You  are  playing  a 
deep  game  with  me,  as  you  think ; but  take  heed,  for  I 
see  through  it ! ” 

“ I pray  you  dismiss  these  suspicions  from  your  mind, 
my  liege,”  said  Wolsey.  “No  servant  was  ever  more 
faithful  to  his  master  than  I have  been  to  you.” 

“ No  servant  ever  took  better  care  of  himself,”  cried  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


241 


king,  fiercely.  “Not  alone  have  you  wronged  me  to  en- 
rich yourself,  but  you  are  ever  intriguing  with  my  ene- 
mies. I have  nourished  in  my  breast  a viper  ; but  I will 
cast  you  off — will  crush  you  as  I would  the  noxious  rep- 
tile ! ” 

And  he  stamped  upon  the  floor,  as  if  he  could  have 
trampled  the  cardinal  beneath  his  foot. 

“ Beseech  you,  calm  yourself,  my  liege,”  replied  Wolsey, 
in  the  soft  and  deprecatory  tone  which  he  had  seldom 
known  to  fail  with  the  king  ; “ I have  never  thought  of 
my  own  aggrandizement,  but  as  it  was  likely  to  advance 
your  power.  For  the  countless  benefits  I have  received  at 
your  hands,  my  soul  overflows  with  gratitude.  You 
have  raised  me  from  the  meanest  condition  to  the  highest. 
You  have  made  me  your  confidant,  your  adviser,  your 
treasurer,  and  with  no  improper  boldness  I say  it,  your 
friend.  But  I defy  the  enemies  who  have  poisoned  your 
ears  against  me,  to  prove  that  I have  ever  abused  the 
trust  placed  in  me.  The  sole  fault  that  can  be  imputed 
to  me  is,  that  I have  meddled  more  with  temporal  matters 
than  with  spiritual,  and  it  is  a crime  for  which  I must 
answer  before  Heaven.  But  I have  so  acted  because  I 
felt  that  I might  thereby  best  serve  your  highness.  If  I 
have  aspired  to  the  papal  throne, — which  you  well  know 
I have, — it  has  been  that  I might  be  yet  a more  powerful 
friend  to  your  majesty,  and  render  you,  what  you  are 
entitled  to  be,  the  first  prince  in  Christendom.” 

“ Tut,  tut ! ” exclaimed  the  king,  who  was,  nevertheless, 
moved  by  the  artful  appeal. 

“ The  gifts  I have  received  from  foreign  princes,” 
pursued  Wolsey,  seeing  the  effect  he  had  produced,  “the 
wealth  I have  amassed,  have  all  been  with  a view  of  bene- 
fiting your  majesty,” 

“ Humph  ! ” exclaimed  the  king. 

“ To  prove  that  I speak  the  truth,  sire,”  continued  the 


242 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


wily  cardinal,  “ the  palace  of  Hampton  Court,  which  I 
have  just  completed ” 

“ And  at  a cost  more  lavish  than  I myself  should  have 
expended  on  it,”  interrupted  the  king,  angrily. 

“ If  I had  destined  it  for  myself,  I should  not  have 
spent  a tithe  of  what  I have  done,”  rejoined  Wolsey. 
“ Your  highness’s  unjust  accusations  force  me  to  declare 
my  intentions  somewhat  prematurely.  Deign,”  he  cried, 
throwing  himself  at  the  king’s  feet, — “ deign  to  accept 
that  palace  and  all  within  it.  You  were  pleased,  during 
your  late  residence  there,  to  express  your  approval  of  it. 
And  I trust  it  will  find  equal  favor  in  your  eyes,  now  that 
it  is  your  own.” 

“By  holy  Mary,  a royal  gift! ’’cried  Henry, — “rise, 
cardinal.  You  are  not  the  grasping,  selfish  person  you 
have  been  represented.” 

“ Declare  as  much  to  my  enemies,  sire,  and  I shall  be 
more  than  content,”  replied  Wolsey.  “ You  will  find  the 
palace  better  worth  acceptance  than  at  first  sight  might 
appear.” 

“ How  so  ? ” cried  the  king. 

“ Your  highness  will  be  pleased  to  take  this  key,”  said 
the  cardinal ; — “ it  is  the  key  of  the  cellar.” 

“You  have  some  choice  wine  there,”  cried  Henry,  sig- 
nificantly— “ given  you  by  some  religious  house, — or  sent 
you  by  some  foreign  potentate — ha ! ” 

“ It  is  wine  that  a king  might  prize,”  replied  the  car- 
dinal. “Your  majesty  will  find  a hundred  hogsheads  in 
that  cellar ; — and  each  hogshead  filled  with  gold.” 

“ You  amaze  me ! ” cried  the  king,  feigning  astonishment. 
“ And  all  this  you  freely  give  me  ? ” 

“ Freely  and  fully,  sire,”  replied  Wolsey.  “ Nay,  I have 
saved  it  for  you.  Men  think  I have  cared  for  myself, 
whereas  I have  cared  only  for  your  majesty.  Oh ! my 
dear  liege,  by  the  devotion  I have  just  approved  to  you, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


243 


and  which  I would  also  approve,  if  needful  with  my  life, 
I beseech  you  to  consider  well  before  you  raise  Anne 
Boleyn  to  the  throne.  In  giving  you  this  counsel,  I know 
I hazard  the  favor  I have  just  regained.  But  even  at  that 
hazard,  I must  offer  it.  Your  infatuation  blinds  you  to 
the  terrible  consequences  of  the  step.  The  union  is 
odious  to  all  your  subjects — but  most  of  all  to  those  not 
tainted  with  the  new  heresies  and  opinions.  It  will  never 
be  forgiven  by  the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth,  who  will 
seek  to  avenge  the  indignity  offered  to  his  illustrious  rel- 
ative; while  Francis  will  gladly  make  it  a pretext  for 
breaking  his  truce  with  you.  Add  to  this,  the  displeasure 
of  the  apostolic  see,  and  it  must  be  apparent,  that  power- 
ful as  you  are,  your  position  will  be  one  of  infinite  peril.” 

“ Thus  far  advanced,  I cannot  honorably  abandon  the 
divorce,”  said  Henry. 

“Nor  do  I advise  its  abandonment,  sire,”  replied  Wol- 
sey ; “ but  do  not  let  it  be  a means  of  injuring  you  with  all 
men.  Do  not  let  a mal-alliance  place  your  very  throne  in 
jeopardy;  as,  with  your  own  subjects  and  all  foreign 
powers  against  you,  must  necessarily  be  the  case.” 

“You  speak  warmly,  cardinal,”  said  Henry. 

“My  zeal  prompts  me  to  do  so,”  replied  Wolsey. 
“ Anne  Boleyn  is  in  no  respect  worthy  of  the  honor  you 
propose  her.” 

“ And  whom  do  you  think  more  worthy  ? ” demanded 
Henry. 

“Those  whom  I have  already  recommended  to  your 
majesty — the  Duchess  D’Alengon,  or  the  Princess  Renee,” 
replied  Wolsey;  “by  a union  with  either  of  whom  you 
would  secure  the  cordial  co-operation  of  Francis,  and  the 
interests  of  the  see  of  Rome,  which  in  the  event  of  a war 
with  Spain  you  may  need.” 

“No,  Wolsey,”  replied  Henry,  taking  a hasty  turn 
across  the  chamber ; “ no  considerations  of  interest  or 


244 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


security  shall  induce  me  to  give  up  Anne.  I love  her  too 
well  for  that.  Let  the  lion  Charles  roar,  the  fox  Francis 
snarl,  and  the  hydra-headed  Clement  launch  forth  his 
flames,  I will  remain  firm  to  my  purpose.  I will  not  play 
the  hypocrite  with  you,  whatever  I may  do  with  others. 
I cast  off  Catherine  that  I may  wed  Anne,  because  I can- 
not otherwise  obtain  her.  And  shall  I now,  when  I have 
dared  so  much,  and  when  the  prize  is  in  my  grasp,  aban- 
don it? — Never!  Threats,  expostulations,  entreaties,  are 
alike  unavailing.” 

“ I grieve  to  hear  it,  my  liege,”  replied  Wolsey,  heav- 
ing a deep  sigh ; “ it  is  an  ill-omened  union,  and  will 
bring  woe  to  you,  and  woe  to  your  realm,  and  woe  to  the 
Catholic  Church.” 

“And  woe  also  to  you,  false  cardinal.”  cried  Anne 
Boleyn,  throwing  aside  the  arras,  and  stepping  forward. 
“ I have  overheard  what  has  passed ; and  from  my  heart 
of  hearts,  I thank  you,  Henry,  for  the  love  you  have  dis- 
played for  me.  But  I here  solemnly  vow  never  to  give 
my  hand  to  you  till  Wolsey  is  dismissed  from  your  coun- 
cils.” 

“ Anne ! ” exclaimed  the  king. 

“My  own  enmity  I could  forego,”  pursued  Anne, 
vehemently,  “ but  I cannot  forgive  him  his  duplicity  and 
perfidy  towards  you.  He  has  just  proffered  you  his 
splendid  palace  of  Hampton,  and  his  treasures, — and 
wherefore  ? — I will  tell  you, — because  he  feared  they 
would  be  wrested  from  him.  His  jester  had  acquainted 
him  with  the  discovery  just  made  of  the  secret  hoard,  and 
he  was  therefore  compelled  to  have  recourse  to  this  des- 
perate move.  But  I was  apprized  of  his  intentions  by 
Will  Sommers,  and  have  come  in  time  to  foil  him.” 

“ By  my  faith,  I believe  you  are  right,  sweetheart,”  said 
the  king. 

“ Go  tell  your  allies,  Francis  and  Clement,  that  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


245 


king’s  love  for  me  outweighs  his  fear  of  them,”  cried 
Anne,  laughing  spitefully.  “ As  for  you,  I regard  you  as 
nothing.” 

“ Vain  woman,  your  pride  will  be  abased,”  rejoined 
Wolsey,  bitterly. 

“ Vain  man,  you  are  already  abased,”  replied  Anne.  “ A 
few  weeks  ago  I would  have  made  terms  with  you.  Now 
I am  your  mortal  enemy,  and  will  never  rest  till  I have 
procured  your  downfall.” 

“ The  king  will  have  an  amiable  consort,  truly,”  sneered 
Wolsey. 

“ He  will  have  one  who  can  love  him  and  hate  his  foes,” 
replied  Anne ; “ and  not  one  who  would  side  with  them 
and  thee,  as  would  be  the  case  with  the  Duchess  D’Alen- 
§on  or  the  Princess  Renee.  Henry,  you  know  the  sole 
terms  on  which  you  can  procure  my  hand.” 

The  king  nodded  a playful  affirmative. 

“ Then  dismiss  him  at  once, — disgrace  him,”  said  Anne. 

“ Nay,  nay,”  replied  Henry,  “ the  divorce  is  not  yet 
passed.  You  are  angered  now,  and  will  view  matters 
more  coolly  to-morrow.” 

“ I shall  never  change  my  resolution,”  she  replied. 

“ If  my  dismissal  and  disgrace  can  save  my  sovereign, 
I pray  him  to  sacrifice  me  without  hesitation,”  said  Wol- 
sey ; “ but  while  I have  liberty  of  speech  with  him,  and 
aught  of  power  remaining,  I will  use  it  to  his  advantage. 
I pray  your  majesty  suffer  me  to  retire.” 

And  receiving  a sign  of  acquiescence  from  the  king,  he 
withdrew,  amid  the  triumphant  laughter  of  Anne. 


246 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HOW  TRISTRAM  LYNDWOOD  WAS  INTERROGATED  BY  THE 
KING. 

Anne  Boleyn  remained  with  her  royal  lover  for  a few 
minutes  to  pour  forth  her  gratitude  for  the  attachment 
he  had  displayed  to  her,  and  to  confirm  the  advantage 
she  had  gained  over  Wolsey.  As  soon  as  she  was  gone, 
Henry  summoned  an  usher,  and  giving  him  some  instruc- 
tions respecting  Mabel  Lyndwood,  proceeded  to  the  Cur- 
few Tower. 

Nothing  was  said  to  him  of  the  strange  noise  that  had 
been  heard  in  the  upper  chamber,  for  the  arquebusiers 
were  fearful  of  exciting  his  displeasure  by  a confession  of 
their  alarm,  and  he  descended  at  once  to  the  dungeon. 

“ Well,  fellow,”  he  cried,  sternly  regarding  the  captive, 
who  arose  at  his  entrance,  “ you  have  now  had  ample 
time  for  reflection,  and  I trust  are  in  a better  frame  of 
mind  than  when  I last  spoke  with  you.  I command  you 
to  declare  all  you  know  concerning  Herne  the  Hunter, 
and  to  give  me  such  information  respecting  the  proscribed 
felon,  Morgan  Fenwolf,  as  will  enable  me  to  accomplish 
his  capture.” 

“ I have  already  told  your  highness,  that  my  mouth  is 
sealed  by  an  oath  of  secrecy,”  replied  Tristram,  humbly, 
but  firmly. 

“ Obstinate  dog ! thou  shalt  either  speak,  or  I will  hang 
thee  from  the  top  of  this  tower  as  I hanged  Mark  Fy  tton, 
the  butcher,”  roared  Henry. 

“ You  will  execute  your  sovereign  pleasure,  my  liege,” 
said  the  old  man.  “ My  life  is  in  your  hands.  It  is  little 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  247 

matter  whether  it  is  closed  now  or  a year  hence.  I have 
well-nigh  run  out  my  term.” 

“If  thou  carest  not  for  thyself,  thou  mayst  not  be 
equally  indifferent  to  another,”  cried  the  king.  “ What, 
ho  ! bring  in  his  granddaughter.” 

The  old  man  started  at  the  command,  and  trembled 
violently.  The  next  moment,  Mabel  was  led  into  the 
dungeon  by  Shoreditch  and  Paddington.  Behind  her 
came  Nicholas  Clamp.  On  seeing  her  grandsire,  she 
uttered  a loud  cry,  and  would  have  rushed  towards  him, 
but  she  was  held  back  by  her  companions. 

“ Oh  ! grandfather,”  she  cried ; “ what  have  you  done  ? 
— why  do  I find  you  here  ? ” 

Tristram  groaned,  and  averted  his  head. 

“He  is  charged  with  felony  and  sorcery,”  said  the 
king,  sternly ; “ and  you,  maiden,  come  under  the  same 
suspicion.” 

“ Believe  it  not,  sire,”  cried  the  old  man,  flinging  him- 
self at  Henry’s  feet ; “ oh,  believe  it  not.  Whatever  you 
may  judge  of  me,  believe  her  innocent.  She  was  brought 
up  most  devoutly,  by  a lay  sister  of  the  monastery  at 
Chertsey;  and  she  knows  nothing,  save  by  report,  of 
what  passes  in  the  forest.” 

“Yet  she  has  seen  and  conversed  with  Morgan  Fen- 
wolf,”  said  the  king. 

“ Not  since  he  was  outlawed,”  said  Tristram. 

“ I saw  him  to-day,  as  I was  brought  to  the  castle,” 
cried  Mabel ; “ and — ” but  recollecting  that  she  might 
implicate  her  grandfather,  she  suddenly  stopped. 

“ What  said  he  ? — ha  ! ” demanded  the  king. 

“I  will  tell  your  majesty  what  passed,”  interposed 
Nicholas  Clamp,  stepping  forward,  “ for  I was  with  the 
damsel  at  the  time.  He  came  upon  us  suddenly  from 
behind  a great  tree,  and  ordered  her  to  accompany  him 
to  her  grandsire.” 


248 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Ha ! ” exclaimed  the  king. 

“ But  he  had  no  authority  for  what  he  said,  I am  well 
convinced,”  pursued  Clamp.  “Mabel  disbelieved  him, 
and  refused  to  go,  and  I should  have  captured  him  if  the 
fiend  he  serves  had  not  lent  him  a helping  hand.” 

“ What  says  the  prisoner  himself  to  this  ? ” observed 
the  king.  “ Didst  thou  send  Fen  wolf  on  the  errand  ? ” 

“ I did,”  replied  Tristram.  “ I sent  him  to  prevent  her 
from  going  to  the  castle.” 

Mabel  sobbed  audibly. 

“ Thou  art  condemned  by  thy  own  confession,  caitiff ! ” 
said  the  king,  and  thou  knowest  upon  what  terms  alone 
thou  canst  save  thyself  from  the  hangman,  and  thy  grand- 
daughter from  the  stake  ! ” 

“ Oh,  mercy,  sire, — mercy  ! ” shrieked  Mabel. 

“Your  fate  rests  with  your  grandsire,”  said  the  king, 
sternly.  “ If  he  chooses  to  be  your  executioner,  he  will 
remain  silent.” 

“ Oh  ! speak,  grandsire,  speak  ! ” cried  Mabel.  “ What 
matters  the  violation  of  an  unholy  vow  ? ” 

“ Give  me  till  to-morrow  for  consideration,  sire,”  said 
the  old  man. 

“Thou  shalt  have  till  midnight,”  replied  the  king; 
“ and  till  then,  Mabel  shall  remain  with  thee.” 

“ I would  rather  be  left  alone,”  said  Tristram. 

“ I doubt  it  not,”  replied  the  king ; “ but  it  shall  not  be.” 

And  without  bestowing  a look  at  Mabel,  whose  sup- 
plications he  feared  might  shake  his  purpose,  he  quitted 
the  vault,  with  his  attendants,  leaving  her  alone  with  her 
grandsire. 

“ I shall  return  at  midnight,”  he  said  to  the  arquebusier 
stationed  at  the  door ; “ and  meanwhile,  let  no  one  enter 
the  dungeon — not  even  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  unless,”  he 
added,  holding  forth  his  hand  to  display  a ring,  “ he  shall 
bring  this  signet.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE* 


249 


CHAPTER  X. 

OF  THE  BRIEF  ADVANTAGE  GAINED  BY  THE  QUEEN  AND  THE 
CARDINAL. 

As  the  king,  wholly  unattended — for  he  had  left  the 
archers  at  the  Curfew  .Tower — was  passing  at  the  back 
of  St.  George’s  Chapel,  near  the  north  transept,  he  paused 
for  a moment  to  look  at  the  embattled  entrance  to  the 
New  Commons — a structure  erected  in  the  eleventh  year 
of  his  own  reign,  by  James  Denton,  a canon,  and  after- 
wards Dean  of  Lichfield,  for  the  accommodation  of  such 
chantry  priests  and  choristers  as  had  no  place  in  the  col- 
lege. Over  the  doorway,  surmounted  by  a niche,  ran 
(and  still  runs)  the  inscription — “ H£des  pro  sacellano- 

RUM  CHORISTARUM  COVIVIIS  EXTRUCTA,  A.D.  1519.”  The 

building  has  since  been  converted  into  one  of  the  canon’s 
houses. 

While  he  was  contemplating  this  beautiful  gateway, 
which  was  glimmering  in  the  bright  moonlight,  a tall 
figure  suddenly  darted  from  behind  one  of  the  buttresses 
of  the  chapel,  and  seized  his  left  arm  with  an  iron  grasp. 
The  suddenness  of  the  attack  took  him  by  surprise ; but 
he  instantly  recovered  himself,  plucked  away  his  arm, 
and  drawing  his  sword,  made  a pass  at  his  assailant,  who, 
however,  avoided  the  thrust,  and  darted  with  inconceiv- 
able swiftness  through  the  archway  leading  to  the 
cloisters.  Though  Henry  followed  as  quickly  as  he  could, 
he  lost  sight  of  the  fugitive,  but  just  as  he  was  about  to 
enter  the  passage  running  between  the  tomb-house  and 
the  chapel,  he  perceived  a person  in  the  south  ambulatory, 
evidently  anxious  to  conceal  himself,  and  rushing  up  to 
him,  and  dragging  him  to  the  light,  he  found  it  was  no 
other  than  the  cardinal’s  jester,  Patch. 


250 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ What  dost  thou  here,  knave  ? ” cried  Henry,  angrily. 

“ I am  waiting  for  my  master,  the  cardinal,”  replied 
the  jester,  terrified  out  of  his  wits. 

“ Waiting  for  him  here  ! ” cried  the  king.  “ Where  is 
he?” 

“ In  that  house,”  replied  Patch,  pointing  to  a beautiful 
bay  window  full  of  stained  glass,  overhanging  the  ex- 
quisite arches  of  the  north  ambulatory. 

“ Why,  that  is  Doctor  Sampson’s  dwelling,”  cried 
Henry,  “he  who  was  chaplain  to  the  queen,  and  is  a 
strong  opponent  of  the  divorce.  What  doth  he  there  ? ” 

“ I am  sure  I know  not,”  replied  Patch,  whose  terror 
increased  each  moment.  “ Perhaps  I have  mistaken  the 
house.  Indeed,  I am  sure  it  must  be  Doctor  Yoysey’s, 
the  next  door.” 

“ Thou  liest,  knave  ! ” cried  Henry,  fiercely  ; “ thy 
manner  convinces  me  there  is  some  treasonable  practise 
going  forward.  But  I will  soon  find  it  out.  Attempt  to 
give  the  alarm,  and  I will  cut  thy  throat.” 

With  this,  he  proceeded  to  the  back  of  the  north  am- 
bulatory, and  finding  the  door  he  sought  unfastened, 
raised  the  latch,  and  walked  softly  in.  But  before  he  got 
half-way  down  the  passage,  Doctor  Sampson  himself 
issued  from  an  inner  room  with  a lamp  in  his  hand.  He 
started  on  seeing  the  king,  and  exhibited  great  alarm. 

“ The  cardinal  of  York  is  here — I know  it,”  said  Henry, 
in  a deep  whisper.  “ Lead  me  to  him.” 

“ Oh ! go  not  forward,  my  gracious  liege,”  cried  Samp- 
son, placing  himself  in  his  path. 

“ Wherefore  not  ? ” rejoined  the  king.  “ Ha ! what 
voice  is  that  I hear  in  the  upper  chamber.  Is  she  here, 
and  with  Wolsey?  Out  of  my  way,  man,”  he  added, 
pushing  the  canon  aside,  and  rushing  up  the  short  wooden 
staircase. 

When  Wolsey  returned  from  his  interview  with  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


251 


king,  which  had  been  so  unluckily  interrupted  by  Anne 
Boleyn,  he  found  his  ante-chamber  beset  with  a crowd  of 
suitors,  to  whose  solicitations  he  was  compelled  to  listen, 
and  haying  been  detained  in  this  manner  for  nearly  half 
an  hour,  he  at  length  retired  into  an  inner  room. 

“ Vile  sycophants ! ” he  muttered,  “ they  bow  the  knee 
before  me,  and  pay  me  greater  homage  than  they  render 
the  king, — but  though  they  have  fed  upon  my  bounty, 
and  risen  by  my  help,  not  one  of  them,  if  he  was  aware 
of  my  true  position,  but  would  desert  me.  Not  one  of 
them  but  would  lend  a helping  hand  to  crush  me.  Not 
one  but  would  rejoice  in  my  downfall.  But  they  have 
not  deceived  me.  I knew  them  from  the  first — saw 
through  their  hollowness,  and  despised  them.  While 
power  lasts  to  me,  I will  punish  some  of  them.  While 
power  lasts ! ” he  repeated.  “ Have  I any  power  remain- 
ing ? I have  already  given  up  Hampton  and  my  treasures 
to  the  king ; and  the  work  of  spoliation  once  commenced, 
the  royal  plunderer  will  not  be  content  till  he  has  robbed 
me  of  all ; while  his  minion  Anne  Boleyn  has  vowed  my 
destruction.  Well,  I will  not  yield  tamely,  nor  fall 
unavenged.” 

As  these  thoughts  passed  through  his  mind,  Patch,  who 
had  waited  for  a favorable  moment  to  approach  him,  de- 
livered him  a small  billet,  carefully  sealed,  and  fastened 
with  a silken  thread.  Wolsey  took  it,  and  broke  it  open  • 
and  as  his  eye  eagerly  scanned  its  contents,  the  expression 
of  his  countenance  totally  changed.  A flash  of  joy  and 
triumph  irradiated  his  fallen  features,  and  thrusting  the 
note  into  the  folds  of  his  robe,  he  inquired  of  the  jester 
by  whom  it  had  been  brought,  and  how  long  ? 

“ It  was  brought  by  a messenger  from  Doctor  Sampson,” 
• replied  Patch,  “ and  was  committed  to  me  with  special  in- 
junctions to  deliver  it  to  your  grace  immediately  on  your 
return,  and  secretly.” 


252 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


The  cardinal  sat  down,  and  for  a few  moments  appeared 
lost  in  deep  reflection ; he  then  arose,  and  telling  Patch 
he  should  return  presently,  quitted  the  chamber.  But 
the  jester,  who  was  of  an  inquisitive  turn,  and  did  not 
like  to  be  confined  to  half  a secret,  determined  to  follow 
him,  and  accordingly  tracked  him  along  the  great  cor- 
ridor, down  a winding  staircase,  through  a private  door 
near  the  Norman  Gateway,  across  the  middle  ward,  and 
finally  saw  him  enter  Doctor  Sampson’s  dwelling,  at  the 
back  of  the  north  ambulatory.  He  was  reconnoitering 
the  windows  of  the  house  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
cloisters,  in  the  hope  of  discovering  something,  when  he 
was  caught,  as  before  mentioned,  by  the  king. 

Wolsey,  meanwhile,  was  received  by  Doctor  Sampson 
at  the  doorway  of  his  dwelling,  and  ushered  by  him  into 
a small  chamber,  on  the  upper  floor,  wainscoted  with 
curiously  carved  and  lustrously  black  oak.  A silver  lamp 
was  burning  on  the  table,  and  in  the  recess  of  the  window, 
which  was  screened  by  thick  curtains,  sat  a majestic  lady, 
who  rose  on  the  cardinal’s  entrance.  It  was  Catherine 
of  Aragon. 

“ I attend  your  pleasure,  madam,”  said  Wolsey,  with  a 
profound  inclination. 

“ You  have  been  long  in  answering  my  summons,”  said 
the  queen ; “ but  I could  not  expect  greater  promptitude. 
Time  was  when  a summons  from  Catherine  of  Aragon 
would  have  been  quickly  and  cheerfully  attended  to; 
when  the  proudest  noble  in  the  land  would  have  borne 
her  message  to  you,  and  when  you  would  have  passed 
through  crowds  to  her  audience-chamber.  Now,  another 
holds  her  place,  and  she  is  obliged  secretly  to  enter  the 
castle  where  she  once  ruled,  to  despatch  a valet  to  her 
enemy,  to  attend  his  pleasure,  and  to  receive  him  in  the 
dwelling  of  a humble  canon.  Times  are  changed  with 
me,  Wolsey — sadly  changed.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


253 


“ I have  been  in  attendance  on  the  king,  madam,  or  I 
should  have  been  with  you  sooner,” replied  Wolsey.  “It 
grieves  me  sorely  to  see  you  here.” 

“ I want  not  your  pity,”  replied  the  queen,  proudly. 
“ I did  not  send  for  you  to  gratify  your  malice  by  expos- 
ing my  abject  state.  I did  not  send  for  you  to  insult  me 
by  false  sympathy ; but  in  the  hope  that  your  own  in- 
terest would  induce  you  to  redress  the  wrongs  you  have 
done  me.” 

“ Alas ! madam,  I fear  it  is  now  too  late  to  repair  the 
error  I have  committed,”  said  Wolsey,  in  a tone  of  affected 
penitence  and  sorrow. 

“ You  admit,  then,  that  it  was  an  error,”  cried  Catherine. 
“ Well,  that  is  something.  Oh  ! that  you  had  paused  be- 
fore you  began  this  evil  work — before  you  had  raised  a 
storm  which  will  destroy  me  and  yourself.  Your  quarrel 
with  my  nephew  the  Emperor  Charles  has  cost  me  dear, 
but  it  will  cost  you  yet  more  dearly.” 

“ I deserve  all  your  reproaches,  madam,”  said  Wolsey, 
with  feigned  meekness ; “ and  I will  bear  them  without  a 
murmur.  But  you  have  sent  for  me  for  some  specific 
object,  I presume  ? ” 

“ I sent  for  you  to  give  me  aid,  as  much  for  your  own 
sake  as  mine,”  replied  the  queen,  “ for  you  are  in  equal 
danger.  Prevent  this  divorce — foil  Anne — and  you  re- 
tain the  king’s  favor.  Our  interests  are  so  far  leagued 
together,  that  you  must  serve  me  to  serve  yourself.  My 
object  is  to  gain  time  to  enable  my  friends  to  act.  Your 
colleague  is  secretly  favorable  to  me.  Pronounce  no 
sentence  here,  but  let  the  cause  be  removed  to  Rome. 
My  nephew  the  emperor  will  prevail  upon  the  pope  to 
decide  in  my  favor.” 

“ I dare  not  thus  brave  the  king’s  displeasure,  madam,” 
replied  Wolsey. 

“ Dissembler ! ” exclaimed  Catherine.  “ I now  perceive 


254 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


the  insincerity  of  your  professions.  Thus  much  I have 
said  to  try  you.  And  now  to  my  real  motive  for  sending 
for  you.  I have  in  my  possession  certain  letters  that  will 
ruin  Anne  Boleyn  with  the  king.” 

“ Ha ! ” exclaimed  the  cardinal,  joyfully ; “ if  that  be 
the  case,  all  the  rest  will  be  easy.  Let  me  see  the  letters, 
I pray  you,  madam.” 

Before  Catherine  could  reply,  the  door  was  thrown  vio- 
lently open,  and  the  king  stood  before  them. 

“ Soh ! ” roared  Henry,  casting  a terrible  look  at  Wol- 
sey,  “ I have  caught  you  at  your  treasonable  practises  at 
last ! — And  you,  madam,”  he  added,  turning  to  Catherine, 
who  meekly,  but  steadily,  returned  his  gaze,  “ what  brings 
you  here  again  ? Because  I pardoned  your  indiscretion 
yesterday,  think  not  I shall  always  be  so  lenient.  You 
will  leave  the  castle  instantly.  As  to  Wolsey,  he  shall 
render  me  a strict  account  of  his  conduct.” 

“I  have  nothing  to  declare,  my  liege,”  replied  Wolsey 
recovering  himself.  “ I leave  it  to  the  queen  to  explain 
why  I came  hither.” 

“ The  explanation  shall  be  given  at  once,”  said  Cath- 
erine. “ I sent  for  the  cardinal  to  request  him  to  lay  before 
your  majesty  these  two  letters  from  Anne  Boleyn  to  Sir 
Thomas  Wyat,  that  you  might  judge  whether  one  who 
could  write  thus  would  make  you  a fitting  consort.  You 
disbelieved  my  charge  of  levity  yesterday.  Read  these, 
sire,  and  judge  whether  I spoke  the  truth.” 

Henry  glanced  at  the  letters,  and  his  brow  grew  dark. 

“ What  say  you  to  them,  my  liege  ? ” cried  Catherine, 
with  a glance  of  triumph.  “ In  the  one  she  vows  eternal 
constancy  to  Sir  Thomas  Wyat;  and  in  the  other, — writ- 
ten after  her  engagement  to  you, — she  tells  him  that 
though  they  can  never  meet  as  heretofore,  she  will  always 
love  him.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  255 

“ Ten  thousand  furies ! ” cried  the  king.  “ Where  got 
you  these  letters,  madam  ? ” 

“ They  were  given  to  me  by  a tall  dark  man,  as  I quitted 
the  castle  last  night,”  said  the  queen.  “ He  said  they 
were  taken  from  the  person  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  while  he 
lay  concealed  in  the  forest  in  the  cave  of  Herne  the 
Hunter.” 

“If  I thought  she  wrote  them,”  cried  Henry,  in  an 
access  of  jealous  fury,  “ I would  cast  her  off  forever.” 

“Methinks  your,  majesty  should  be  able  to  judge 
whether  they  are  true  or  false,”  said  Catherine.  “ I know 
her  writing  well — too  well,  alas  ! — and  am  satisfied  they 
are  genuine.” 

“I  am  well  assured  that  Wyat  was  concealed  in  the 
Lady  Anne’s  chamber  when  your  majesty  demanded  ad- 
mittance, and  could  not  obtain  it, — when  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey sacrificed  himself  for  her,  and  for  his  friend,”  said 
Wolsey. 

“ Perdition  ! ” exclaimed  the  king,  striking  his  brow 
with  his  clenched  hand.  “ Oh ! Catherine,”  he  continued, 
after  a pause,  during  which  she  intently  watched  the 
workings  of  his  countenance,  “ and  it  was  for  this  light- 
hearted creature  I was  about  to  cast  you  off  ! ” 

“ I forgive  you,  sire — I forgive  you ! ” exclaimed  the 
queen,  clasping  his  hands,  and  bedewing  them  with  grate- 
ful tears.  “You  have  been  deceived.  Heaven  keep  you 
in  the  same  mind  ! ” 

“ You  have  preserved  me,”  said  Henry ; “ but  you 
must  not  tarry  here.  Come  with  me  to  the  royal  lodg- 
ings.” 

“ No,  Henry,”  replied  Catherine,  with  a shudder,  “ not 
while  she  is  there.” 

“Make  no  conditions,  madam,”  whispered  Wolsey. 
“ Go.” 

“ She  shall  be  removed  to-morrow,”  said  Henry. 


256 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ In  that  case  I am  content  to  smother  my  feelings,” 
said  the  queen. 

“ Come  then,  Kate,”  said  Henry,  taking  her  hand. 
“ Lord  cardinal,  you  will  attend  us.” 

“ Right  gladly,  my  liege,”  replied  Wolsey.  “If  this 
mood  will  only  endure,”  he  muttered,  “ all  will  go  well. 
But  his  jealousy  must  not  he  allowed  to  cool.  Would 
that  Wyat  were  here ! ” 

Doctor  Sampson  could  scarcely  credit  his  senses,  as  he 
beheld  the  august  pair  come  forth  together,  and  a word 
from  Wolsey  explaining  what  had  occurred,  threw  him 
into  transports  of  delight.  But  the  surprise  of  the  good 
canon  was  nothing  to  that  exhibited  as  Henry  and  Cath- 
erine entered  the  royal  lodgings,  and  the  king  ordered  his 
own  apartments  to  be  instantly  prepared  for  her  majesty’s 
reception. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE, 


257 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HOW  TRISTEAM  LYNDWOOD  AND  MABEL  WERE  LIBERATED. 

Intelligence  of  the  queen’s  return  was  instantly  con- 
veyed to  Anne  Boleyn,  and  filled  her  with  indescribable 
alarm.  All  her  visions  of  power  and  splendor  seemed 
to  melt  away  at  once.  She  sent  for  her  father,  Lord 
Rochford,  who  hurried  to  her  in  a state  of  the  utmost 
anxiety,  and  closely  questioned  her  whether  the  extraor- 
dinary change  had  not  been  occasioned  by  some  impru- 
dence of  her  own.  But  she  positively  denied  the  charge ; 
alleging  that  she  had  parted  with  the  king  scarcely  an 
hour  before  on  terms  of  the  most  perfect  amity,  and  with 
the  full  conviction  that  she  had  accomplished  the  cardinal’s 
ruin. 

“ You  should  not  have  put  forth  your  hand  against  him, 
till  you  were  sure  of  striking  the  blow,”  said  Rochford. 
“ There  is  no  telling  what  secret  influence  he  has  over  the 
king ; and  there  may  yet  be  a hard  battle  to  fight.  But 
not  a moment  must  be  lost  in  counteracting  his  operations. 
Luckily,  Suffolk  is  here ; and  his  enmity  to  the  cardinal 
will  make  him  a sure  friend  to  us.  Pray  Heaven  you 
have  not  given  the  king  fresh  occasion  for  jealousy! 
That  is  all  I fear.” 

And  quitting  his  daughter,  he  sought  out  Suffolk,  who, 
alarmed  at  what  appeared  like  a restoration  of  Wolsey  to 
favor,  promised  heartily  to  co-operate  with  him  in  the 
struggle,  and  that  no  time  might  be  lost,  the  duke  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  the  royal  closet,  where  he  found  the 
king  pacing  moodily  to  and  fro. 

“ Your  majesty  seems  disturbed,”  said  the  duke. 

“ Disturbed  ! — ay  ! ” exclaimed  the  king.  “ I have 


258 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


enough  to  disturb  me.  I will  never  love  again.  I will 
forswear  the  whole  sex.  Harkee,  Suffolk,  you  are  my 
brother,  my  second  self,  and  know  all  the  secrets  of  my 
heart.  After  the  passionate  devotion  I have  displayed 
for  Anne  Boleyn, — after  all  I have  done  for  her, — all  I 
have  risked  for  her, — I have  been  deceived.” 

44  Impossible,  my  liege  ! ” exclaimed  Suffolk. 

44  Why,  so  I thought,”  cried  Henry,  44  and  I turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  all  insinuations  thrown  out  against  her,  till 
proof  was  afforded  which  I could  no  longer  doubt.” 

44  And  what  was  the  amount  of  the  proof,  my  liege  ? ” 
asked  Suffolk. 

44  These  letters,”  said  Henry,  handing  them  to  him, 
44  found  on  the  person  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.” 

44  But  these  only  prove,  my  liege,  the  existence  of  a 
former  passion, — nothing  more,”  remarked  Suffolk,  after 
he  had  scanned  them. 

44  But  she  vows  eternal  constancy  to  him ! ” cried  Henry ; 
44  says  she  shall  ever  love  him  ? — says  so  at  the  time  she 
professes  devoted  love  for  me ! How  can  I trust  her 
after  that  ? Suffolk,  I feel  she  does  not  love  me  exclu- 
sively; and  my  passion  is  so  deep  and  devouring,  that 
it  demands  entire  return.  I must  have  her  heart  as 
well  as  her  person  ; and  I feel  I have  only  won  her  in 
my  quality  of  king.” 

44 1 am  persuaded  your  majesty  is  mistaken,”  said  the 
duke. 

44  Would  I could  think  so  ! ” sighed  Henry.  44  But  no 
— no,  I cannot  be  deceived.  I will  conquer  this  fatal  pas- 
sion. Oh,  Suffolk ! it  is  frightful  to  be  the  bondslave  of 
a woman— a fickle,  inconstant  woman.  But  between  the 
depths  of  love  and  hate  is  but  a step  ; and  I can  pass 
from  one  to  the  other.” 

44  Do  nothing  rashly,  my  dear  liege,”  said  Suffolk  ; 
44  nothing  that  may  bring  with  it  after-repentance.  Do 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


259 


not  be  swayed  by  those  who  have  inflamed  your  jealousy, 
and  who  could  practise  upon  it.  Think  the  matter 
calmly  over,  and  then  act.  And  till  you  have  decided, 
see  neither  Catherine  nor  Anne  ; and,  above  all,  do  not 
admit  Wolsey  to  your  secret  councils.” 

“ You  are  his  enemy,  Suffolk,”  said  the  king,  sternly. 

“ I am  your  majesty’s  friend,”  replied  the  duke.  “ Be- 
seech you,  yield  to  me  on  this  occasion,  and  I am  sure  of 
your  thanks  hereafter.” 

“Well,  I believe  you  are  right,  my  good  friend  and 
brother,”  said  Henry,  “and  I will  curb  my  impulse  of 
rage  and  jealousy.  To-morrow,  before  I see  either  the 
queen  or  Anne,  we  will  ride  forth  into  the  forest,  and 
talk  the  matter  further  over.” 

“ Your  highness  has  come  to  a wise  determination,” 
said  the  duke. 

“ Oh,  Suffolk ! ” sighed  Henry,  “ would  I had  never 
seen  this  siren ! She  exercises  a fearful  control  over  me, 
and  enslaves  my  very  soul.” 

“ I cannot  say  whether  it  is  for  good  or  ill  that  you 
have  met,  my  dear  liege,”  replied  Suffolk,  “ but  I fancy 
I can  discern  the  way  in  which  your  ultimate  decision 
will  be  taken.  But  it  is  now  near  midnight.  I wish 
your  majesty  sound  and  untroubled  repose.” 

“ Stay  ! ” cried  Henry,  “ I am  about  to  visit  the  Cur- 
few Tower,  and  must  take  you  with  me.  I will  explain 
my  errand  as  we  go.  I had  some  thought  of  sending  you 
there  in  my  stead.  Ha  ! ” he  exclaimed,  glancing  at  his 
finger — “ By  Saint  Paul ! it  is  gone ! ” 

“ What  is  gone,  my  liege  ? ” asked  Suffolk. 

“ My  signet,”  replied  Henry.  “ I missed  it  not  till  now. 
It  has  been  wrested  from  me  by  the  fiend,  during  my 
walk  from  the  Curfew  Tower,  Let  us  not  lose  a mo- 
ment, or  the  prisoners  will  be  set  free  by  him, — if  they 
have  not  been  liberated  already.” 


260 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


So  saying,  he  took  a couple  of  dags — a species  of  short 
gun — from  a rest  on  the  wall,  and  giving  one  to  Suffolk, 
thrust  the  other  into  his  girdle.  Thus  armed,  they  quit- 
ted the  royal  lodgings,  and  hurried  in  the  direction  of  the 
Curfew  Tower.  Just  as  they  reached  the  Horse-shoe 
Cloisters,  the  alarm  bell  began  to  ring. 

“ Did  I not  tell  you  so  ? ” cried  Henry  furiously  ; “ they 
have  escaped.  Ha  ! it  ceases ! — what  has  happened  ? ” 

About  a quarter  of  an  hour  after  the  king  had  quitted 
the  Curfew  Tower,  a tall  man,  enveloped  in  a cloak,  and 
wearing  a high  conical  cap,  presented  himself  to  the  ar- 
quebusier  stationed  at  the  entrance  to  the  dungeon,  and 
desired  to  be  admitted  to  the  prisoners. 

“ I have  the  king’s  signet,”  he  said,  holding  forth  the 
ring. 

On  seeing  this,  the  arquebusier,  who  recognized  the 
ring,  unlocked  the  door,  and  admitted  him.  Mabel  was 
kneeling  on  the  ground  beside  her  grandsire,  with  her 
hands  raised  as  in  prayer,  but  as  the  tall  man  entered 
the  vault,  she  started  to  her  feet,  and  uttered  a slight 
scream. 

“ What  is  the  matter,  child  ? ” cried  Tristram. 

“ He  is  here ! — he  is  come ! ” cried  Mabel,  in  a tone  of 
the  deepest  terror. 

“ Who — the  king  ! ” cried  Tristram,  looking  up.  “ Ah ! 
I see  ! Herne  is  come  to  deliver  me.” 

“ Do  not  go  with  him,  grandsire,”  cried  Mabel.  “ In 
the  name  of  the  saints,  I implore  you,  do  not.” 

“ Silence  her ! ” said  Herne,  in  a harsh,  imperious  voice, 
“ or  I leave  you.” 

The  old  man  looked  imploringly  at  his  granddaughter. 

“You  know  the  conditions  of  your  liberation  ? ” said 
Herne. 

“ I do — I do,”  replied  Tristram,  hastily,  and  with  a 
shudder. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


261 


“ Oh ! grandfather,”  cried  Mabel,  falling  at  his  feet, 
“do  not,  I conjure  you,  make  any  conditions  with  this 
dreaded  being,  or  it  will  be  at  the  expense  of  your  salva- 
tion. Better  I should  perish  at  the  stake — better  you 
should  suffer  the  most  ignominious  death,  than  this 
should  be.” 

“ Do  you  accept  them  ? ” cried  Herne,  disregarding  her 
supplications. 

i Tristram  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

“ Recall  your  words,  grandfather — recall  your  words ! ” 
cried  Mabel.  “ I will  implore  pardon  for  you  on  my  knees 
from  the  king,  and  he  will  not  refuse  me.” 

“ The  pledge  cannot  be  recalled,  damsel,”  said  Herne ; 
“ and  it  is  to  save  you  from  the  king,  as  much  as  to  ac- 
complish his  own  preservation,  that  your  grandsire  con- 
sents. He  would  not  have  you  a victim  to  Henry’s  lust.” 
And  as  he  spoke,  he  divided  the  forester’s  bonds  with  his 
knife.  “ You  must  go  with  him,  Mabel,”  he  added. 

“ I will  not ! ” she  cried.  “ Something  warns  me  that 
a great  danger  awaits  me.” 

“You  must  go,  girl,”  cried  Tristram,  angrily.  “I  will 
not  leave  you  to  Henry’s  lawless  passion.” 

Meanwhile,  Herne  had  passed  into  one  of  the  large  em- 
brasures, and  opened,  by  means  of  a spring,  an  entrance 
to  a secret  staircase  in  the  wall.  He  then  beckoned  Tris- 
tram towards  him  and  whispered  some  instructions  in  his 
ear. 

“ I understand,”  replied  the  old  man. 

“ Proceed  to  the  cave,”  cried  Herne,  “ and  remain  there 
till  I join  you.” 

Tristram  nodded  assent. 

“ Come,  Mabel ! ” he  cried,  advancing  towards  her,  and 
seizing  her  hand. 

“ Away  ! ” cried  Herne,  in  a menacing  tone. 

Terrified  by  the  formidable  looks  and  gestures  of  the 


262 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


demon,  the  poor  girl  offered  no  resistance,  and  her  grand- 
father drew  her  into  the  opening,  which  was  immediately 
closed  after  her. 

About  an  hour  after  this,  and  when  it  was  near  upon 
the  stroke  of  midnight,  the  arquebusier  who  had  admitted 
the  tall  stranger  to  the  dungeon,  and  who  had  momentari- 
ily  expected  his  coming  forth,  opened  the  door  to  see  what 
was  going  forward.  Great  was  his  astonishment  to  find 
the  cell  empty  ! After  looking  around  in  bewilderment, 
he  rushed  to  the  chamber  above,  to  tell  his  comrades  what 
had  happened. 

66  This  is  clearly  the  work  of  the  fiend,”  said  Shore- 
ditch ; “ it  is  useless  to  strive  against  him.” 

“That  tall  black  man  was  doubtless  Herne  himself,” 
said  Paddington.  “I  am  glad  he  did  us  no  injury.  I 
hope  the  king  will  not  provoke  his  malice  further.” 

“ Well,  we  must  inform  Captain  Bouchier  of  the  mis- 
chance,” said  Shoreditch.  “ I would  not  be  in  thy  skin, 
Mat  Bee,  for  a trifle.  The  king  will  be  here  presently, 
and  then ” 

“ It  is  impossible  to  penetrate  through  the  devices  of 
the  evil  one,”  interrupted  Mat.  “ I could  have  sworn  it 
was  the  royal  signet,  for  I saw  it  on  the  king’s  finger  as 
he  delivered  the  order.  I wish  such  another  chance  of 
capturing  the  fiend  would  occur  to  me.” 

As  the  words  were  uttered,  the  door  of  a recess  was 
thrown  suddenly  open,  and  Herne,  in  his  wild  garb,  with 
his  antlered  helm  upon  his  brow,  and  the  rusty  chain  de- 
pending from  his  left  arm,  stood  before  them.  His  ap- 
pearance was  so  terrific  and  unearthly  that  they  all  shrank 
aghast,  and  Mat  Bee  fell  with  his  face  on  the  floor. 

“ I am  here  ! ” cried  the  demon.  “ Now,  braggart,  wilt 
dare  to  seize  me  ? ” 

But  not  a hand  was  moved  against  him.  The  whole 
party  seemed  transfixed  with  terror. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


263 


“ You  dare  not  brave  my  power,  and  you  are  right,” 
cried  Herne — “ a wave  of  my  hand  would  bring  this  old 
tower  about  your  ears, — a word  would  summon  a legion 
6f  fiends  to  torment  you.” 

“ But  do  not  utter  it,  I pray  you,  good  Herne — excel- 
lent Herne,”  cried  Mat  Bee.  44  And,  above  all  things,  do 
not  wave  your  hand,  for  we  have  no  desire  to  be  buried 
alive, — have  we,  comrades  ? I should  never  have  said 
what  I did  if  I had  thought  your  fiendship  within  hear- 
ing.” 

44  Your  royal  master  will  as  vainly  seek  to  contend  with 
me  as  he  did  to  bury  me  beneath  the  oak  tree,”  cried 
Herne.  44  If  you  want  me  further,  seek  me  in  the  upper 
chamber.” 

And  with  these  words,  he  darted  up  the  ladder-like 
flight  of  steps  and  disappeared. 

As  soon  as  they  recovered  from  the  fright  that  had  en- 
chained them,  Shoreditch  and  Paddington  rushed  forth 
into  the  area  in  front  of  the  turret,  and  shouting  to  those 
on  the  roof,  told  them  that  Herne  was  in  the  upper  room 
— a piece  of  information  which  was  altogether  superfluous, 
as  the  hammering  had  recommenced,  and  continued  till 
the  clock  struck  twelve,  when  it  stopped.  Just  then,  it 
occurred  to  Mat  Bee  to  ring  the  alarm  bell,  and  he  seized 
the  rope,  and  began  to  pull  it ; but  the  bell  had  scarcely 
sounded,  when  the  cord,  severed  from  above,  fell  down 
upon  his  head. 

At  this  juncture,  the  king  and  the  Duke  of  Suffolk 
arrived.  When  told  what  had  happened,  though  pre- 
pared for  it,  Henry  burst  into  a terrible  passion,  and 
bestowed  a buffet  on  Mat  Bee,  that  well-nigh  broke 
his  jaw,  and  sent  him  reeling  to  the  further  side  of  the 
chamber.  He  had  not  at  first  understood  that  Herne  was 
supposed  to  be  in  the  upper  room ; but  as  soon  as 
he  was  made  aware  of  the  circumstance,  he  cried  out — • 


264 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Ah,  dastards ! have  you  let  him  brave  you  thus  ? But 
I am  glad  of  it.  His  capture  is  reserved  for  my  own 
hand.” 

“Do  not  expose  yourself  to  this  risk,  my  gracious 
liege,”  said  Suffolk. 

“ What ! are  you  too  a sharer  in  their  womanish  fears, 
Suffolk  ? ” cried  Henry.  “ I thought  you  had  been  made 
of  stouter  stuff.  If  there  is  danger,  I shall  be  the  first 
to  encounter  it.  Come,”  he  added,  snatching  a torch 
from  an  arquebusier.  And,  drawing  his  dag,  he  hurried 
up  the  steep  steps,  while  Suffolk  followed  his  example, 
and  three  or  four  arquebusiers  ventured  after  them. 

Meanwhile,  Shoreditch  and  Paddington  ran  out,  and 
informed  Bouchier  that  the  king  had  arrived,  and  was 
mounting  in  search  of  Herne,  upon  which  the  cap- 
tain, shaking  off  his  fears,  ordered  his  men  to  follow 
him,  and  opening  the  little  door  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
began  cautiously  to  descend,  feeling  his  way  with  his 
sword.  He  had  got  about  half-way  down,  when  Henry 
sprang  upon  the  platform.  The  light  of  the  torch  fell 
upon  the  ghostly  figure  of  Herne,  with  his  arms  folded 
upon  his  breast,  standing  near  the  pile  of  wood,  lying 
between  the  two  staircases.  So  appalling  was  the 
appearance  of  the  demon,  that  Henry  stood  still  to  gaze 
at  him,  while  Bouchier  and  his  men  remained  irresolute 
on  the  stairs.  In  another  moment,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk 
had  gained  the  platform,  and  the  arquebusiers  were  seen 
near  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

“ At  last,  thou  art  in  my  power,  accursed  being ! ” 
cried  Henry,  “ Thou  art  hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  and 
canst  not  escape ! ” 

“ Ho  ! ho ! ho ! ” laughed  Herne. 

“ This  shall  prove  whether  thou  art  human  or  not,” 
cried  Henry,  taking  deliberate  aim  at  him  with  the  dag. 

“ Ho ! ho  ! ho ! ” roared  Herne. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  265 

And  as  the  report  rang  through  the  room,  he  sank 
through  the  floor,  and  disappeared  from  view. 

“ Gone ! ” exclaimed  Henry,  as  the  smoke  cleared  off ; 
“ gone  ! Holy  Mary ! then  it  must  indeed  be  the  fiend. 
I made  the  middle  of  his  skull  my  aim,  and  if  he  had  not 
been  invulnerable,  the  bullet  must  have  pierced  his 
brain.” 

“ I heard  it  rebound  from  his  horned  helmet,  and  drop 
to  the  floor,”  said  Bouchier. 

“What  is  that  chest?”  cried  Henry,  pointing  to  a 
strange  coffin-shaped  box,  lying,  as  it  seemed,  on  the  ex- 
act spot  where  the  demon  had  disappeared. 

No  one  had  seen  it  before,  though  all  called  to  mind 
the  mysterious  hammering ; and  they  had  no  doubt  that 
the  coffin  was  the  work  of  the  demon. 

“ Break  it  open ! ” cried  Henry  ; “ for  aught  we  know, 
Herne  may  be  concealed  within  it.” 

The  order  was  reluctantly  obeyed  by  the  arquebusiers. 
But  no  force  was  required,  for  the  lid  was  not  nailed 
down ; and  when  it  was  removed,  a human  body,  in  the 
last  stage  of  decay,  was  discovered. 

“ Pah ! close  it  up,”  cried  Henry,  turning  away  in  dis- 
gust. “ How  came  it  there  ? ” 

“ It  must  have  been  brought  by  the  powers  of  dark- 
ness,” said  Bouchier ; “ no  such  coffin  was  here  when  I 
searched  the  chamber  two  hours  ago.  But  see,”  he  add- 
ed, stooping  down,  and  picking  up  a piece  of  paper  which 
had  fallen  from  the  coffin,  “ here  is  a scroll.” 

“ Give  it  me ! ” cried  Henry ; and  holding  it  to  the 
light,  he  read  the  words,  “ The  body  of  Mark  Fytton , the 
butcher , — the  victim  of  a tyrant's  cruelty ,” 

Uttering  a terrible  imprecation,  Henry  flung  the 
paper  from  him ; and  bidding  the  arquebusiers  burn  the 
body  at  the  foot  of  the  gallows  without  the  town,  he 
quitted  the  tower  without  further  search. 


266 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HOW  WOLSEY  WAS  DISGRACED  BY  THE  KING. 

On  the  following  day,  a reconciliation  took  place  be- 
tween the  king  and  Anne  Boleyn.  During  a ride  in  the 
Great  Park  with  his  royal  brother,  Suffolk  not  only  con- 
vinced him  of  the  groundlessness  of  his  jealousy,  but  con- 
trived to  incense  him  strongly  against  Wolsey.  Thus  the 
queen  and  the  cardinal  lost  the  momentary  advantage 
they  had  gained,  while  Anne’s  power  was  raised  yet 
higher.  Yielding  to  her  entreaties  not  to  see  Catherine 
again,  nor  to  hold  further  conference  with  Wolsey  until 
the  sentence  of  the  court  should  be  pronounced,  Henry 
left  the  castle  that  very  day,  and  proceeded  to  his  palace 
of  Bridewell.  The  distress  of  the  unhappy  queen  at  this 
sudden  revolution  of  affairs  may  be  conceived.  Distrust- 
ing Wolsey,  and  putting  her  sole  reliance  on  Heaven,  and 
the  goodness  of  her  cause,  she  withdrew  to  Black- 
friars,  where  she  remained  till  the  court  met.  As  to  the 
cardinal  himself,  driven  desperate  by  his  situation,  and 
exasperated  by  the  treatment  he  had  experienced,  he  re- 
solved, at  whatever  risk,  to  thwart  Henry’s  schemes,  and 
revenge  himself  upon  Anne  Boleyn. 

Thus  matters  continued  till  the  court  met  as  before  in 
the  parliament-chamber,  at  Blackfriars.  On  this  occasion 
Henry  was  present,  and  took  his  place  under  a cloth  of 
state, — the  queen  sitting  at  some  distance  below  him. 
Opposite  them  were  the  legates  with  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  and  the  whole  of  the  bishops.  The  aspect 
of  the  assemblage  was  grave  and  anxious.  Many  eyes 
were  turned  on  Henry,  who  looked  gloomy  and  menacing, 
but  the  chief  object  of  interest  was  the  queen,  who,  though 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


267 


pale  as  death,  had  never  in  her  highest  days  of  power 
worn  a more  majestic  and  dignified  air  than  on  this  occa- 
sion. 

The  proceedings  of  the  court  then  commenced,  and 
the  king  being  called  by  the  crier,  he  immediately  an- 
swered to  the  summons.  Catherine  was  next  called,  and 
instead  of  replying,  she  marched  towards  the  canopy 
beneath  which  the  king  was  seated,  prostrated  herself, 
and  poured  forth  a most  pathetic  and  eloquent  appeal  to 
him  ; at  the  close  of  which,  she  arose  and  making  a pro- 
found reverence,  walked  out  of  the  court,  leaning  upon 
the  arm  of  her  general-receiver,  Griffith.  Henry  desired 
the  crier  to  call  her  back,  but  she  would  not  return ; and 
seeing  the  effect  produced  by  her  address  upon  the  audi- 
tory, he  endeavored  to  efface  it  by  an  eulogium  on  her 
character  and  virtues,  accompanied  by  an  expression  of 
deep  regret  at  the  step  he  was  compelled  to  take  in  sepa- 
rating himself  from  her.  But  his  hypocrisy  availed  him 
little,  and  his  speech  was  received  with  looks  of  ill-disguised 
incredulity.  Some  further  discourse  then  took  place  be- 
tween the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the  Bishop  of 
Rochester ; but  as  the  queen  had  absented  herself,  the 
court  was  adjourned  to  the  next  day,  when  it  again  met, 
and  as  she  did  not  then  appear,  though  summoned,  she 
was  pronounced  contumacious.  After  repeated  adjourn- 
ments, the  last  session  was  held,  and  judgment  demanded 
on  the  part  of  the  king,  when  Campeggio,  as  had  been 
arranged  between  him  and  Wolsey,  declined  to  pronounce 
it  until  he  had  referred  the  matter  to  the  pope,  and  the 
court  was  dissolved. 

About  two  months  after  this  event,  during  which  time 
the  legates’  commission  had  been  revoked,  while  Henry 
was  revolving  the  expediency  of  accomplishing  the  divorce 
through  the  medium  of  his  own  ecclesiastical  courts, 
and  without  reference  to  that  of  Rome, — a despatch  was 


268 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


received  from  the  pope  by  the  two  cardinals,  requiring 
them  to  cite  the  king  to  appear  before  him  by  attorney 
on  a certain  day.  At  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  this  in- 
strument, Campeggio  chanced  to  be  staying  with  Wolsey 
at  his  palace  at  Esher,  and  as  the  king  was  then  holding 
his  court  at  Windsor,  they  both  set  out  for  the  castle  on 
the  following  day,  attended  by  a retinue  of  nearly  a 
hundred  horsemen,  splendidly  equipped. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  September,  and  the  woods, 
instead  of  presenting  one  uniform  mass  of  green,  glowed 
with  an  infinite  variety  of  lovely  tints.  And  yet,  despite 
the  beauty  of  the  scene,  there  was  something  melancholy 
in  witnessing  the  decline  of  the  year,  as  marked  by  those 
old  woods,  and  by  the  paths  that  led  through  them,  so 
thickly  strewn  with  leaves.  Wolsey  was  greatly  affected. 
“ These  noble  trees  will  ere  long  be  reft  of  their  glories,1 ” 
he  thought — “ and  so,  most  likely,  will  it  be  with  me — 
and  perhaps  my  winter  may  come  on  sooner  than  theirs  ! ” 

The  cardinal  and  his  train  had  crossed  Staines  Bridge ; 
and  passing  through  Egham,  had  entered  the  Great  Park, 
near  Englefield  Green.  They  were  proceeding  along  the 
high  ridge  overlooking  the  woody  region  between  it  and 
the  Castle,  when  a joyous  shout  in  the  glades  beneath 
reached  them ; and  looking  down,  they  saw  the  king, 
accompanied  by  Anne  Boleyn  and  attended  by  his  fal- 
coners and  a large  company  of  horsemen,  pursuing  the 
sport  of  hawking.  The  royal  party  appeared  so  much 
interested  in  their  sport,  that  they  did  not  notice  the 
cardinal  and  his  train,  and  were  soon  out  of  sight.  But 
as  Wolsey  descended  Snow  Hill,  and  entered  the  long 
avenue,  he  heard  the  trampling  of  horses  at  a little  dis- 
tance ; and  shortly  afterwards,  Henry  and  Anne  issued 
from  out  the  trees.  They  were  somewhat  more  than  a 
bow-shot  in  advance  of  the  cardinal ; but  instead  of  halt- 
ing till  he  came  up,  the  king  had  no  sooner  ascertained 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


269 


who  it  was,  than,  despatching  a messenger  to  the  castle, 
who  was  seen  galloping  swiftly  down  the  avenue,  he  rode 
off  with  Anne  Boleyn  toward  the  opposite  side  of  the 
park.  Though  deeply  mortified  by  the  slight,  Wolsey 
concealed  his  vexation  from  his  brother  cardinal,  and 
pursued  his  way  to  the  castle,  before  which  he  presently 
arrived.  The  gate  was  thrown  open  at  his  approach,  but  \ 
he  had  scarcely  entered  the  lower  ward,  when  Sir  Henry 
Norris,  the  king’s  groom  of  the  stole,  advanced  to  meet 
him,  and,  with  a sorrowful  expression  of  countenance,  said 
that  his  royal  master  had  so  many  guests  at  the  castle, 
that  he  could  not  accommodate  him  and  his  train. 

“I  understand  your  drift,  sir,”  replied  Wolsey — “you 
would  tell  me  I am  not  welcome.  Well,  then,  his  em- 
inence Cardinal  Campeggio  and  myself  must  take  up  our 
lodging  at  some  hostel  in  the  town,  for  it  is  necessary  we 
should  see  the  king.” 

“ If  your  grace  is  content  to  dismiss  your  attendants,” 
said  Norris,  in  a low  tone,  “ you  and  Cardinal  Campeggio 
can  be  lodged  in  Henry  the  Third’s  Tower.  Thus  much  I 
will  take  upon  me  ; but  I dare  not  admit  you  to  the  royal 
lodgings.” 

Wolsey  tried  to  look  unconcerned,  and  calling  to  his 
gentleman  usher,  George  Cavendish,  gave  him  some 
instructions  in  a low  voice,  upon  which  the  other  im- 
mediately placed  himself  at  the  head  of  the  retinue,  and 
ordered  them  to  quit  the  castle  with  him,  leaving  only  the 
jester,  Patch,  to  attend  upon  his  master.  Campeggio’s  at- 
tendants, being,  comparatively  speaking,  few  in  number, 
were  allowed  to  remain,  and  his  litter  was  conveyed  to 
Henry  the  Third’s  Tower — a fortification  standing,  as 
already  stated,  in  the  south  side  of  the  lower  ward,  near  the 
edge  of  the  dry  moat  surrounding  the  Round  Tower.  At 
the  steps  of  this  tower  Wolsey  dismounted,  and  was  about 
to  follow  Campeggio  into  the  doorway,  when  Will  Som- 


270 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


mers,  who  had  heard  of  his  arrival,  stepped  forward,  and 
with  a salutation  of  mock  formality,  said — “ I am  sure 
it  will  grieve  the  king,  my  master,  not  to  be  able  to  accom- 
modate your  grace’s  train ; but  since  it  is  larger  than  his 
own  you  will  scarce  blame  his  want  of  hospitality.” 

“Nor  the  courtesy  of  his  attendants,”  rejoined  Wolsey, 
sharply.  “ I am  in  no  mood  for  thy  jesting  now.  Stand 
aside,  sirrah,  or  I will  have  the  rod  applied  to  thy  back ! ” 

“ Take  care  the  king  does  not  apply  the  rod  to  your 
own,  lord  cardinal,”  retorted  Will  Sommers.  “If  he 
scourges  you  according  to  your  deserts,  your  skin  will  be 
redder  than  your  robe.”  And  his  mocking  laugh  pur- 
sued Wolsey  like  the  hiss  of  a snake,  into  the  tower. 

Some  two  hours  after  this,  Henry  and  his  attendants 
returned  from  the  chase.  The  king  seemed  in  a blithe 
humor,  and  Wolsey  saw  him  laugh  heartily  as  Will 
Sommers  pointed  with  his  bauble  towards  Henry  the 
Third’s  Tower.  The  cardinal  received  no  invitation  to 
the  royal  banquet ; and  the  answer  to  his  solicitation  for 
an  interview  was,  that  he  and  Campeggio  would  be  re- 
ceived in  the  presence-chamber  on  the  following  morning, 
but  not  before. 

That  night  a great  revel  was  held  in  the  castle.  Mask- 
ing, dancing,  and  feasting,  filled  up  the  evening,  and 
the  joyous  sounds  and  strains  reached  Wolsey  in  his 
seclusion,  and  forced  him  to  contrast  it  with  his  recent 
position,  when  he  would  have  been  second  only  to  the 
king  in  the  entertainment.  He  laid  his  head  upon  his 
pillow,  but  not  to  rest,  and  while  tossing  feverishly  about 
his  couch,  he  saw  the  arras  with  which  the  walls  were 
covered,  move,  and  a tall,  dark  figure  step  from  behind 
it.  The  cardinal  would  have  awakened  his  jester,  who 
slept  in  a small  truckle-bed  at  his  feet,  but  the  strange 
visitor  motioned  him  to  be  still. 

“You  may  conjecture  who  I am,  cardinal,”  he  said, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


271 


“ but  in  case  you  should  doubt,  I will  tell  you.  I am 
Herne  the  Hunter ! And  now  to  my  errand.  There  is  a 
damsel,  whom  you  once  saw  in  the  forest  near  the  great 
lake,  and  whom  you  promised  to  befriend.  You  can 
assist  her  now — to-morrow  it  may  be  out  of  your  power.” 

“ I have  enough  to  do  to  aid  myself,  without  meddling 
with  what  concerns  me  not,”  said  Wolsey. 

“ This  damsel  does  concern  you,”  cried  Herne.  “ Read 
this,  and  you  will  see  in  what  way.” 

And  he  tossed  a letter  to  Wolsey,  who  glanced  at  it  by 
the  light  of  the  lamp. 

“ Ha ! is  it  so  ? ” he  exclaimed.  “ Is  she ” 

“ Hush ! ” cried  Herne,  “ or  you  will  wake  this  sleeper. 
It  is  as  you  suppose.  Will  you  not  aid  her  now?  Will 
you  not  bestow  some  of  your  treasure  upon  her  before  it 
is  wholly  wrested  from  you  by  the  king?  I will  do 
aught  you  wish,  secretly  and  swiftly.” 

“ Go,  then,  to  my  palace  at  Esher,”  cried  the  cardinal. 
“ Take  this  key  to  my  treasurer — it  is  the  key  of  my  cof- 
fers. Bid  him  deliver  to  you  the  six  caskets  in  the  cabi- 
net in  the  gilt  chamber.  Here  is  a token  by  which  he 
will  know  that  you  came  from  me,”  he  added,  delivering 
him  a small  chain  of  gold,  “ for  it  has  been  so  agreed  be- 
tween us.  But  you  will  be  sure  to  give  the  treasure  to 
Mabel.” 

“ Fear  nothing,”  replied  Herne.  And  stretching  forth 
his  hand  to  receive  the  key  and  the  chain,  he  glided  be- 
hind the  tapestry,  and  disappeared. 

This  strange  incident  gave  some  diversion  to  Wolsey ’s 
thoughts;  but  ere  long  they  returned  to  their  former 
channel.  Sleep  would  not  be  summoned,  and  as  soon  as 
the  first  glimpse  of  day  appeared,  he  arose,  and  wrapping 
his  robe  around  him,  left  his  room  and  ascended  a wind- 
ing staircase  leading  to  the  roof  of  the  tower. 

The  morning  promised  to  be  fine,  but  it  was  then  hazy, 


272 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


and  the  greater  part  of  the  forest  was  wrapped  in  mist. 
The  castle,  however,  was  seen  to  great  advantage.  Above 
Wolsey  rose  the  vast  fabric  of  the  Round  Tower,  on  the 
summit  of  which  the  broad  standard  was  at  that  moment 
being  unfurled;  while  the  different  battlements  and 
towers  arose  majestically  around. . But  Wolsey ’s  gaze 
rested  chiefly  upon  the  exquisite  mausoleum  lying  im- 
mediately beneath  him,  in  which  he  had  partly  prepared 
for  himself  a magnificent  monument.  A sharp  pang 
shook  him  as  he  contemplated  it,  and  he  cried  aloud — 
“ My  very  tomb  will  be  wrested  from  me  by  this  rapa- 
cious monarch  ; and  after  all  my  care,  and  all  my  cost,  I 
know  not  where  I shall  rest  my  bones  ! ” 

Saddened  by  the  reflection,  he  descended  to  his  cham- 
ber, and  again  threw  himself  on  the  couch. 

But  Wolsey  was  not  the  only  person  in  the  castle  who 
had  passed  a sleepless  night.  Of  the  host  of  his  enemies 
many  had  been  kept  awake  by  the  anticipation  of  his 
downfall  on  the  morrow ; and  among  these  was  Anne 
Boleyn,  who  had  received  an  assurance  from  the  king 
that  her  enmity  should  at  length  be  fully  gratified. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  the  two  cardinals  proceeded  to 
the  royal  lodgings.  They  were  detained  for  some  time 
in  the  ante-chamber,  where  Wolsey  was  exposed  to  the 
taunts  and  sneers  of  the  courtiers,  who  had  lately  so  ser- 
vilely fawned  upon  him.  At  length,  they  were  ushered 
into  the  presence-chamber,  at  the  upper  end  of  which, 
beneath  a canopy  emblazoned  with  the  royal  arms  woven 
in  gold,  sat  Henry,  with  Anne  Boleyn  on  his  right  hand. 
At  the  foot  of  the  throne  stood  Will  Sommers,  and  near 
him  the  Dukes  of  Richmond  and  Suffolk.  Norfolk,  Roch- 
ford,  and  a number  of  other  nobles,  all  open  enemies  of 
Wolsey,  were  likewise  present.  Henry  watched  the  ad- 
vance of  the  cardinals  with  a stern  look,  and  after  they 
had  made  an  obeisance  to  him,  he  motioned  them  to  rise. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


273 


“ You  have  sought  an  interview  with  me,  my  lords,” 
he  said,  with  suppressed  rage.  “What  would  you?” 

“We  have  brought  an  instrument  to  you,  my  liege,” 
said  Wolsey,  “which  has  just  been  received  from  his  holi- 
ness the  pope.” 

“ Declare  its  nature,”  said  Henry. 

“It  is  a citation,”  replied  Wolsey,  “enjoining  your 
highness  to  appear  by  attorney  in  the  papal  court,  under 
a penalty  of  ten  thousand  ducats.” 

And  he  presented  a parchment,  stamped  with  the  great 
seal  of  Rome,  to  the  king,  who  glanced  his  eye  fiercely 
over  it,  and  then  dashed  it  to  the  ground,  with  an  explo- 
sion of  fury  terrible  to  hear  and  to  witness. 

“ Ha  ! by  Saint  George  ! ” he  cried ; “ am  I as  nothing, 
that  the  pope  dares  to  insult  me  thus  ? ” 

“It  is  a mere  judicial  form,  your  majesty,”  interposed 
Campeggio ; “ and  is  chiefly  sent  by  his  holiness  to  let 
you  know  we  have  no  further  jurisdiction  in  the  matter 
of  the  divorce.” 

“ I will  take  care  you  have  not,  nor  his  holiness  either,” 
roared  the  king.  “ By  my  father’s  head ! he  shall  find  I 
will  be  no  longer  trifled  with.” 

“ But,  my  liege,”  cried  Campeggio 

“ Peace  ! ” cried  the  king.  “ I will  hear  no  apologies 
nor  excuses.  The  insult  has  been  offered,  and  cannot  be 
effaced.  As  for  you,  Wolsey ” 

“ Sire ! ” exclaimed  the  cardinal,  shrinking  before  the 
whirlwind  of  passion,  which  seemed  to  menace  his  utter 
extermination. 

“As  for  you,  I say,”  pursued  Henry,  extending  his 
hand  towards  him,  while  his  eyes  flashed  fire,  “ who  by 
your  outrageous  pride  have  so  long  overshadowed  our 
honor, — who  by  your  insatiate  avarice  and  appetite  for 
wealth  have  oppressed  our  subjects, — who  by  your  mani- 
fold acts  of  bribery  and  extortion  have  impoverished  our 


274 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


realm,  and  by  your  cruelty  and  partiality  have  subverted 
the  due  course  of  justice,  and  turned  it  to  your  own  ends, 
— the  time  is  come  when  you  shall  receive  due  punish- 
ment for  your  offenses.” 

“ You  wrong  me,  my  dear  liege,”  cried  Wolsey,  abjectly. 
“ These  are  the  accusations  of  my  enemies.  Grant  me  a 
patient  hearing,  and  I will  explain  all.” 

“ I would  not  sharpen  the  king’s  resentment  against 
you,  lord  cardinal,”  said  Anne  Boleyn,  “for  it  is  keen 
enough;  but  I cannot  permit  you  to  say  that  these 
charges  are  merely  hostile.  Those  who  would  support 
the  king’s  honor  and  dignity  must  desire  to  see  you  re- 
moved from  his  councils.” 

“I  am  ready  to  take  thy  place,  lord  cardinal,”  said 
Will  Sommers ; “ and  will  exchange  my  bauble  for  thy 
chancellor’s  mace,  and  my  fool’s  cap  for  thy  cardinal’s 
hat.” 

“ Peace  ! ” thundered  the  king.  “ Stand  not  between 
me  and  the  object  of  my  wrath.  Your  accusers  are  not 
one,  but  many,  Wolsey;  nay,  the  whole  of  my  people  cry 
out  for  justice  against  you.  And  they  shall  have  it. 
But  you  shall  hear  the  charges  they  bring.  Firstly,  con- 
trary to  our  prerogative,  and  for  your  own  advancement 
and  profit,  you  have  obtained  authority  legatine  from  the 
pope;  by  which  authority  you  have  not  only  spoiled  and 
taken  away  their  substance  from  many  religious  houses, 
but  have  usurped  much  of  our  own  jurisdiction.  You 
have  also  made  a treaty  with  the  King  of  France  for  the 
pope  without  our  consent,  and  concluded  another  friendly 
treaty  with  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  under  our  great  seal, 
and  in  our  name,  without  our  warrant.  And,  further- 
more, you  have  presumed  to  couple  yourself  with  our 
royal  self  in  your  letters  and  instructions,  as  if  you  were 
on  an  equality  with  us.” 

“ Ila  I ha  ! c The  king  and  I would  have  you  do  thus ! ’ 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


275 


< The  king  and  I give  you  our  hearty  thanks ! ’ Ran  it 
not  so,  cardinal ? ” cried  Will  Sommers.  “You  will  soon 
win  the  cap  and  hells.” 

“ In  exercise  of  your  legatine  authority,”  pursued  the 
king,  “you  have  given  away  benefices  contrary  to  our 
crown  and  dignity,  for  the  which  you  are  in  danger  of 
forfeiture  of  your  lands  and  goods.” 

“A  premunire,  cardinal,”  cried  Will  Sommers.  “A 
premunire! — ha!  ha!” 

“ Then  it  has  been  your  practise  to  receive  all  the  am- 
bassadors to  our  court  first  at  your  own  palace,”  continued 
Henry, — “to  hear  their  charges  and  intentions,  and  to 
instruct  them  as  you  might  see  fit.  You  have  also  so 
practised  that  all  our  letters  sent  from  beyond  sea  have 
first  come  to  your  own  hands,  by  which  you  have  ac- 
quainted yourself  with  their  contents,  and  compelled  us 
and  our  council  to  follow  your  devices.  You  have  also 
written  to  all  our  ambassadors  abroad  in  your  own  name 
concerning  our  affairs,  without  our  authority ; and  re- 
ceived letters  in  return  from  them  by  which  you  have 
sought  to  compass  your  own  purposes.  By  your  ambition 
and  pride  you  have  undone  many  of  our  poor  subjects ; 
have  suppressed  religious  houses,  and  received  their  pos- 
sessions ; have  seized  upon  the  goods  of  wealthy  spiritual 
men  deceased ; constrained  all  ordinaries  yearly  to  com- 
pound with  you ; have  gotten  riches  for  yourself  and 
servants  by  subversion  of  the  laws,  and  by  abuse  of  your 
authority  in  causing  divers  pardons  of  the  pope  to  be 
suspended  until  you,  by  promise  of  a yearly  pension, 
chose  to  revive  them  ; and  also  by  crafty  and  un- 
true tales  have  sought  to  create  dissension  among  our 
nobles.” 

“ That  we  can  all  avouch  for,”  cried  Suffolk.  “ It  was 
never  merry  in  England  while  there  were  cardinals 
among  us.” 


276 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Of  all  men  in  England  your  grace  should  be  the  last 
to  say  so,”  rejoined  Wolsey ; “for  if  I had  not  been  car- 
dinal, you  would  not  have  had  a head  upon  your  shoulders 
to  utter  the  taunt.” 

“ No  more  of  this ! ” cried  the  king.  “You  have  mis- 
demeaned  yourself  in  our  court  by  keeping  up  as  great 
state  in  our  absence  as  if  we  had  been  there  in  person ; 
and  presumptuously  have  dared  to  join  and  imprint  your 
badge — the  cardinal’s  hat,  under  our  arms,  graven  on  our 
coins  struck  at  York.  And  lastly — whenever  in  open 
parliament  allusion  hath  been  made  to  heresies  and  er- 
roneous sects,  you  have  failed  to  correct  and  notice  them, 
to  the  danger  of  the  whole  body  of  good  and  Christian 
people  of  this  our  realm.” 

“ This  last  charge  ought  to  win  me  favor  in  the  eyes 
of  one  who  professes  the  opinions  of  Luther,”  said 
Wolsey,  to  Anne.  “But  I deny  it,  as  I do  all  the 
rest.” 

“ I will  listen  to  no  defense,  Wolsey,”  replied  the  king. 
“ I will  make  you  a terrible  example  to  others  how  they 
offend  us  and  our  laws  hereafter.” 

“ Do  not  condemn  me  unheard ! ” cried  the  cardinal, 
prostrating  himself. 

“ I have  heard  too  much ; and  I wrill  hear  no  more  ! ” 
cried  the  king,  fiercely.  “ I dismiss  you  from  my  pres- 
ence forever.  If  you  are  innocent,  as  you  aver,  justice 
will  be  done  you.  If  you  are  guilty,  as  I believe  you  to 
be,  look  not  for  leniency  from  me,  for  I will  show  you 
none ! ” 

And,  seating  himself,  he  turned  to  Anne,  and  said,  in  a 
low  tone,  “ Are  you  content,  sweetheart  ? ” 

“ I am,”  she  replied.  “ I shall  not  now  break  my  vow. 
False  cardinal ! ” she  added  aloud,  “ your  reign  is  at  an 
end.” 

“ Your  own  may  not  be  much  longer,  madam,”  rejoined 


“ Do  not  condemn  me  unheard  ! ” cried  the  Cardinal.  “ I dismiss 
you  from  my  presence  forever.”  said  the  King.  Page  276, 

Windsor  Castle 


UNtVB 


OF  THE 
>XV  OF  H-U 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


277 


Wolsey,  bitterly.  “ The  shadow  of  the  axe,”  he  added, 
pointing  to  the  reflection  of  a partisan  on  the  floor,  “ is  at 
your  feet.  Ere  long  it  may  rise  to  the  head.” 

And,  accompanied  by  Campeggio,  he  slowly  quitted 
the  presence-chamber. 


Cbus  enbs  tbe  Cbitb  :©oofs  of  tbc  Chronicle  of 
TWUnbsor  Castle, 


Book  the  fourth. 


MABEL  LYOT) WOOD, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE, 


281 


CHAPTER  I. 

HOW  THE  EARL  OF  SURREY  AND  THE  FAIR  GERALDINE  MET 

IN’  king  james’s  bower  in  the  moat  ; and  how  they 

WERE  SURPRISED  BY  THE  DUKE  OF  RICHMOND. 

In  order  to  preserve  unbroken  the  chain  of  events  with 
which  the  last  book  of  this  chronicle  concluded,  it  was 
deemed  expedient  to  disturb  the  unity  of  time,  so  far  as 
it  related  to  some  of  the  less  important  characters ; and  it 
will  now  be  necessary,  therefore,  to  return  to  the  middle 
of  June,  when  the  Earl  of  Surrey’s  term  of  captivity  was 
drawing  to  a close. 

As  the  best  means  of  conquering  the  anxiety  produced 
by  the  vision  exhibited  to  him  by  Herne,  increased  as  it 
was  by  the  loss  of  the  relic  he  had  sustained  at  the  same 
time,  the  earl  had  devoted  himself  to  incessant  study,  and 
for  a whole  month,  he  remained  within  his  chamber. 
The  consequence  of  his  unremitting  application  was,  that 
though  he  succeeded  in  his  design,  and  completely  re- 
gained his  tranquillity,  his  strength  gave  way  under  the 
effort,  and  he  was  confined  for  some  days  to  his  couch  by 
a low  fever. 

As  soon  as  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  venture 
forth,  he  mounted  to  the  summit  of  the  Round  Tower,  in 
the  hope  that  a walk  round  its  breezy  battlements  might 
conduce  to  his  restoration  to  health.  The  day  was  bright 
and  beautiful,  and  a gentle  wind  was  stirring ; and  as 
Surrey  felt  the  breath  of  heaven  upon  his  cheek,  and 
gazed  upon  the  glorious  prospect  before  him,  he  wondered 
that  his  imprisonment  had  not  driven  him  mad.  Every- 
thing around  him,  indeed,  was  calculated  to  make  the 


282 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


sense  of  captivity  painful.  The  broad  and  beautiful 
meads,  stretching  out  beneath  him,  seemed  to  invite  a 
ramble  over  them, — the  silver  river  courted  a plunge  into 
its  waves — the  woods  an  hour’s  retirement  into  their 
shady  recesses.  The  bells  of  Eton  College  rang  out 
merrily,  but  their  sound  saddened,  rather  than  elated  him. 
The  road  between  Eton  and  Windsor,  then  marked  by 
straggling  cottages  with  gardens  between  them,  with  here 
and  there  a dwelling  of  a better  kind,  was  thronged  with 
herds  of  cattle  and  their  drivers,  for  a fair  was  held  that 
day  in  the  town  of  Windsor,  to  which  they  were  hasten- 
ing. Then  there  were  country  maidens  and  youthful 
hinds  in  their  holiday  apparel,  trooping  towards  the 
bridge.  Booths  were  erected,  near  which  in  the  Brocas 
meads,  the  rustic  sports  of  wrestling,  running,  and  cast- 
ing the  bar,  were  going  forward ; while  numbers  of  boats 
shot  to  and  fro  upon  the  river,  and  strains  of  music  pro- 
ceeded from  a large  gilt  barge  moored  to  its  banks. 
Nearer,  and  in  the  broad  green  plain  lying  beneath  the 
north  terrace,  were  a company  of  archers  shooting  at  the 
butts.  But  these  sights  instead  of  affording  pleasure  to 
Surrey,  only  sharpened  the  anguish  of  his  feelings  by  the 
contrast  they  offered  to  his  present  position. 

To  distract  his  thoughts,  he  quitted  the  near  view,  and 
let  his  eye  run  along  the  edge  of  the  horizon,  until  it 
rested  upon  a small  speck,  which  he  knew  to  be  the  lofty 
spire  of  Saint  Paul’s  cathedral.  If,  as  he  supposed,  the 
fair  Geraldine  was  in  attendance  upon  Anne  Boleyn,  at 
the  palace  at  Bridewell,  she  must  be  under  the  very 
shadow  of  this  very  spire ; and  the  supposition,  whether 
correct  or  not,  produced  such  quick  and  stifling  emotions, 
that  the  tears  rushed  to  his  eyes. 

Ashamed  of  his  weakness,  he  turned  to  the  other  side 
of  the  tower,  and  bent  his  gaze  upon  the  woody  heights 
of  the  Great  Park.  These  recalled  Herne  the  Hunter; 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


283 


and  burning  with  resentment  at  the  tricks  practised  upon 
him  by  the  demon,  he  determined  that  the  first  use  he 
would  make  of  his  liberty  should  be  to  seek  out,  and,  if 
possible,  effect  the  capture  of  the  mysterious  being. 
Some  of  the  strange  encounters  between  Herne  and  the 
king  had  been  related  to  him  by  the  officer  on  guard  at 
the  Norman  Tower;  but  these  only  served  as  stimulants 
to  the  adventure.  After  a couple  of  hours  thus  passed 
on  the  keep,  he  descended,  refreshed  and  invigorated. 
The  next  day  he  was  there  again,  and  the  day  after  that ; 
when  feeling  that  his  restoration  was  well-nigh  complete, 
he  requested  permission  to  pass  the  following  evening  in 
the  dry  moat  of  the  donjon.  And  this  was  readily  ac- 
corded him. 

Covered  with  green  sod,  and  shaded  by  many  tall  trees, 
growing  out  of  the  side  of  the  artificial  mound  on  which 
the  keep  was  built,  the  fosse  offered  all  the  advantages  of 
a garden  to  the  prisoners  who  were  allowed  to  take  ex- 
ercise within  it.  Here,  as  has  been  mentioned,  King 
James  the  First  of  Scotland  first  beheld,  from  the  battle- 
ments above,  the  lovely  Jane  Beaufort  take  her  solitary 
walk,  and  by  his  looks  and  gestures  contrived  to  make  her 
sensible  of  the  passion  with  which  she  inspired  him ; and 
here  at  last,  in  an  arbor  which,  for  the  sake  of  the  old 
and  delightful  legend  connected  with  it,  was  kept  up  at 
the  time  of  this  chronicle,  and  then  bore  the  name  of  the 
royal  poet,  they  had  secretly  met,  and  interchanged  their 
vows  of  affection. 

Familiar  with  the  story,  familiar  also  with  the  poetic 
strains  to  which  the  monarch’s  passion  gave  birth,  Surrey 
could  not  help  comparing  his  own  fate  with  that  of  the 
illustrious  captive  who  had  visited  the  spot  before  him. 
Full  of  such  thoughts,  he  pensively  tracked  the  narrow 
path  winding  between  the  grassy  banks  of  the  fosse — now 
casting  up  his  eyes  to  the  keep — now  looking  towards 


284 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


the  arbor,  and  wishing  that  he  had  been  favored  with 
such  visitings  as  lightened  the  captivity  of  the  Scottish 
king.  At  last,  he  sought  the  bower — a charming  little 
nest  of  green  leaves  and  roses,  sheltering  a bench  which 
seemed  only  contrived  for  lovers — and  taking  out  his 
tablets,  began  to  trace  within  them  some  stanzas  of  that 
exquisite  poem  which  has  linked  his  name  forever  with 
the  Round  Tower.  Thus  occupied,  the  time  stole  on  in- 
sensibly, and  he  was  not  aware  that  he  had  overstayed 
the  limits  allowed  him,  till  he  was  roused  by  the  voice  of 
the  officer,  who  came  to  summon  him  back  to  his  prison. 

“ You  will  be  removed  to  your  old  lodging  in  the  Round 
Tower  to-morrow  night,  my  lord,”  said  the  officer. 

“ For  what  reason  ? ” demanded  the  earl,  as  he  followed 
his  conductor  up  the  steep  side  of  the  mound.  But  re- 
ceiving no  reply,  he  did  not  renew  the  inquiry. 

Entering  a door  in  the  covered  way  at  the  head  of  the 
flight  of  steps  communicating  with  the  Norman  Tower, 
they  descended  them  in  silence.  Just  as  they  reached  the 
foot  of  this  long  staircase,  the  earl  chanced  to  cast  back 
his  eyes,  and,  to  his  inexpressible  astonishment,  perceived 
on  the  landing  at  the  head  of  the  steps,  and  just  before 
the  piece  of  ordnance  commanding  the  ascent,  the  figure 
of  Herne  the  Hunter. 

Before  he  could  utter  an  exclamation,  the  figure  re- 
treated through  the  adjoining  archway.  Telling  the 
officer  what  he  had  seen,  Surrey  would  fain  have  gone  in 
quest  of  the  fiendish  spy ; but  the  other  would  not  per- 
mit him ; and  affecting  to  treat  the  matter  as  a mere 
creation  of  fancy,  he  hurried  the  earl  to  his  chamber  in 
the  Curfew  Tower. 

The  next  day,  Surrey  was  removed  betimes  to  the 
Round  Tower,  and  the  cause  of  the  transfer  was  soon  ex- 
plained by  the  discharge  of  ordnance,  the  braying  of 
trumpets,  and  the  rolling  of  drums,  announcing  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


285 


arrival  of  the  king.  From  the  mystery  observed  towards 
him,  Surrey  was  led  to  the  conclusion  that  the  fair  Geral- 
dine accompanied  the  royal  party ; but  he  in  vain  sought 
to  satisfy  himself  of  the  truth  of  the  surmise  by  examin- 
ing, through  the  deep  embrasure  of  his  window,  the 
cavalcade  that  soon  afterwards  entered  the  upper  quad- 
rangle. Amid  the  throng  of  beautiful  dames  surrounding 
Anne  Boleyn  he  could  not  be  certain  that  he  detected  the 
fair  Geraldine ; but  he  readily  distinguished  the  Duke  of 
Richmond  among  the  nobles,  and  the  sight  awakened  a 
pang  of  bitter  jealousy  in  his  breast. 

The  day  wore  away  slowly,  for  he  could  not  fix  his  at- 
tention upon  his  books,  neither  was  he  allowed  to  go  forth 
upon  the  battlements  of  the  tower.  In  the  evening, 
however,  the  officer  informed  him  he  might  take  exercise 
within  the  dry  moat  if  he  was  so  inclined,  and  he  gladly 
availed  himself  of  the  permission. 

After  pacing  to  and  fro  along  the  walk  for  a short  time, 
he  entered  the  arbor,  and  was  about  to  throw  himself 
upon  the  bench,  when  he  observed  a slip  of  paper  lying 
upon  it.  He  took  it  up,  and  found  a few  lines  traced 
upon  it  in  hurried  characters.  They  ran  thus  : — 

“ The  fair  Geraldine  arrived  this  morning  in  the  castle. 
If  the  Earl  of  Surrey  desires  to  meet  her,  he  will  find  her 
within  this  arbor  at  midnight.” 

This  billet  was  read  and  re-read  by  the  young  earl  with 
feelings  of  indescribable  transport ; but  a little  reflection 
damped  his  ardor,  and  made  him  fear  it  might  be  a 
device  to  ensnare  him.  There  was  no  certainty  that  the 
note  proceeded  in  any  way  from  the  fair  Geraldine,  nor 
could  he  even  be  sure  that  she  was  in  the  castle.  Still, 
despite  these  misgivings,  the  attraction  was  too  powerful 
to  be  resisted,  and  he  turned  over  the  means  of  getting 
out  of  his  chamber,  but  the  scheme  seemed  wholly  im- 
practicable. The  window  was  at  a considerable  height 


286 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


above  the  ramparts  of  the  keep,  and  even  if  he  could  reach 
them,  and  escape  the  notice  of  the  sentinels,  he  should 
have  to  make  a second  descent  into  the  fosse.  And  sup- 
posing all  this  accomplished,  how  was  he  to  return  ? The 
impossibility  of  answering  this  latter  mental  interroga- 
tion compelled  him  to  give  up  all  idea  of  the  attempt. 

On  returning  to  his  prison- chamber,  he  stationed  him- 
self at  the  embrasure  overlooking  the  ramparts,  and 
listened  to  the  regular  tread  of  the  sentinel  below,  half 
resolved,  be  the  consequences  what  they  might,  to  de- 
scend. As  the  appointed  time  approached,  his  anxiety 
became  almost  intolerable,  and  quitting  the  window,  he 
began  to  pace  hurriedly  to  and  fro  within  the  chamber, 
which,  as  has  been  previously  observed,  partook  of  the 
circular  form  of  the  keep,  and  was  supported  in  certain 
places  by  great  wooden  pillars  and  cross  beams.  But  in- 
stead of  dissipating  his  agitation,  his  rapid  movements 
seemed  rather  to  increase  it,  and  at  last,  wrought  to  a 
pitch  of  uncontrollable  excitement,  he  cried  aloud — “ If 
the  fiend  were  to  present  himself  now,  and  to  offer  to  lead 
me  to  her,  I would  follow  him.” 

Scarcely  were  the  words  uttered  than  a hollow  laugh 
broke  from  the  further  end  of  the  chamber,  and  a deep 
voice  exclaimed — “ I am  ready  to  take  you  to  her.” 

“ I need  not  ask  who  addresses  me,”  said  Surrey,  after 
a pause,  and  straining  his  eyes  to  distinguish  the  figure 
of  the  speaker  in  the  gloom. 

“ I will  tell  you  who  I am,”  rejoined  the  other.  44 1 am 
he  who  visited  you  once  before — who  showed  you  a vision 
of  the  fair  Geraldine, — and  carried  off  your  vaunted  relic, 
—ho  ! ho ! ” 

44 Avoid  thee,  false  fiend!”  rejoined  Surrey,  44 thou 
temptest  me  now  in  vain.” 

44 You  have  summoned  me,”  returned  Herne;  44 and  I 
will  not  be  dismissed.  I am  ready  to  convey  you  to  your 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  287 

mistress,  who  awaits  you  in  King  James’s  bower,  and 
marvels  at  your  tardiness.” 

“ And  with  what  design  dost  thou  offer  me  this  serv- 
ice?” demanded  Surrey. 

“ It  will  be  time  enough  to  put  that  question  when  I 
make  any  condition,”  replied  Herne.  “ Enough,  I am 
willing  to  aid  you.  Will  you  go  ? ” 

“ Lead  on ! ” replied  Surrey,  marching  towards  him. 

Suddenly,  Herne  drew  a lantern  from  beneath  the  cloak 
in  which  he  was  wrapped,  and  threw"  its  light  on  a trap- 
door lying  open  at  his  feet. 

“ Descend  ! ” he  cried. 

Surrey  hesitated  a moment,  and  then  plunged  down  the 
steps.  In  another  instant,  the  demon  followed.  Some 
hidden  machinery  was  then  set  in  motion,  and  the  trap- 
door returned  to  its  place.  At  length,  Surrey  arrived 
at  a narrow  passage,  which  appeared  to  correspond  in 
form  with  the  bulwarks  of  the  keep.  Here  Herne  passed 
him,  and  taking  the  lead,  hurried  along  the  gallery  and 
descended  another  flight  of  steps,  which  brought  them  to 
a large  vault,  apparently  built  in  the  foundation  of  the 
tower.  Before  the  earl  had  time  to  gaze  round  this 
chamber,  the  demon  masked  the  lantern,  and  taking  his 
hand,  drew  him  through  a narrow  passage  terminated  by 
a small  iron  door,  which  flew  open  at  a touch,  and  they 
emerged  among  the  bushes  clothing  the  side  of  the 
mound. 

“ You  can  now  proceed  without  my  aid,”  said  Herne; 
“but  take  care  not  to  expose  yourself  to  the  senti- 
nels.” 

Keeping  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  for  the  moon  was 
shining  brightly,  Surrey  hastened  towards  the  arbor, 
and  as  he  entered  it,  to  his  inexpressible  delight  found 
that  he  had  not  been  deceived,  but  that  the  fair  Geraldine 
was  indeed  there. 


288 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ How  did  you  contrive  this  meeting  ? ” she  cried, 
after  their  first  greetings  had  passed.  “ And  how  did  you 
learn  I was  in  the  castle,  for  the  strictest  instructions  were 
given  that  the  tidings  should  not  reach  you.” 

The  only  response  made  by  Surrey  was  to  press  her 
lily  hand  devotedly  to  his  lips. 

44  I should  not  have  ventured  hither,”  pursued  the  fair 
Geraldine,  “ unless  you  had  sent  me  the  relic  as  a token. 
I knew  you  would  never  part  with  it,  and  I therefore 
felt  sure  there  was  no  deception.” 

44  But  how  did  you  get  here  ? ” inquired  Surrey. 

66  Your  messenger  provided  a rope-ladder,  by  which  I 
descended  in  the  moat,”  she  replied. 

Surrey  was  stupefied. 

“ You  seem  astonished  at  my  resolution,”  she  continued ; 
“ and,  indeed,  I am  surprised  at  it  myself ; but  I could 
not  overcome  my  desire  to  see  you,  especially  as  this 
meeting  may  be  our  last.  The  king,  through  the  Lady 
Anne  Boleyn,  has  positively  enjoined  me  to  think  no  more 
of  you,  and  has  given  your  father,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
to  understand  that  your  marriage  without  the  royal  as- 
sent will  be  attended  by  the  loss  of  all  the  favor  he  now 
enjoys.” 

“ And  think  you  I will  submit  to  such  tyranny  ? ” cried 
Surrey. 

44  Alas  ! ” replied  the  fair  Geraldine,  in  a mournful  tone, 
44 1 feel  we  shall  never  be  united.  This  conviction,  which 
has  lately  forced  itself  upon  my  mind,  has  not  made  me 
love  you  less,  though  it  has  in  some  degree  altered  my 
feelings  towards  you.” 

44  But  I may  be  able  to  move  the  king,”  cried  Surrey. 
44 1 have  some  claim  besides  that  of  kindred  on  the  Lady 
Anne  Boleyn — and  she  will  obtain  his  consent.” 

44  Do  not  trust  to  her,”  replied  the  fair  Geraldine.  44  You 
may  have  rendered  her  an  important  service,  but  be  not 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  289 

too  sure  of  a return.  No,  Surrey,  I here  release  you  from 
the  troth  you  plighted  to  me  in  the  cloisters.” 

“ I will  not  be  released  from  it ! ” cried  the  earl,  hastily, 
“ neither  will  I release  you.  I hold  the  pledge  as  sacred 
and  as  binding  as  if  we  had  been  affianced  together  before 
Heaven.” 

“ For  your  own  sake,  do  not  say  so,  my  dear  lord,”  re- 
joined the  fair  Geraldine;  “beseech  you,  do  not.  That 
your  heart  is  bound  to  me  now,  I well  believe — and  that 
you  could  become  inconstant  I will  not  permit  myself  to 
suppose.  But  your  youth  forbids  a union  between  us 
for  many  years — and  if  during  that  time  you  should 
behold  some  fairer  face  than  mine — or  should  meet  some 
heart  you  may  conceive  more  loving, — though  that  can 
hardly  be, — I would  not  have  a hasty  vow  restrain  you. 
Be  free  then — free  at  least  for  three  years — and  if  at  the 
end  of  that  time  your  affections  are  still  unchanged,  I am 
willing  you  should  bind  yourself  to  me  forever.” 

“ I cannot  act  with  equal  generosity  to  you,”  rejoined 
Surrey,  in  a tone  of  deep  disappointment.  “ I would 
sooner  part  with  life  than  relinquish  the  pledge  I have 
received  from  you.  But  I am  content  that  my  constancy 
should  be  put  to  the  test  you  propose.  During  the  long 
term  of  my  probation,  I will  shrink  from  no  trial  of  faith. 
Throughout  Europe  I will  proclaim  your  beauty  in  the 
lists,  and  will  maintain  its  supremacy  against  all  comers. 
But,  oh ! sweet  Geraldine,  since  we  have  met  in  this  spot, 
hallowed  by  the  loves  of  James  of  Scotland  and  Jane 
Beaufort,  let  us  here  renew  our  vows  of  eternal  constancy, 
and  agree  to  meet  again  at  the  time  you  have  appointed, 
with  hearts  as  warm  and  loving  as  those  we  bring 
together  now.” 

And  as  he  spoke  he  drew  her  towards  him  and  im- 
printed a passionate  kiss  on  her  lips. 

“ Let  that  ratify  the  pledge,”  he  said. 


290 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Ho ! ho  ! ho ! ” laughed  a deep  voice,  without. 

“ What  was  that  ? ” demanded  the  fair  Geraldine,  in  a 
tone  of  alarm. 

“You  have  the  relic,  have  you  not?”  inquired  the  earl, 
in  a low  tone. 

“Ho,”  she  replied,  “your  messenger  merely  showed  it 
to  me.  But  why  do  you  ask  ? Ah ! I understand.  The 
fiendish  laughter  that  just  now  sounded  in  my  ears  pro- 
ceeded from ” 

“ Herne  the  Hunter,”  replied  Surrey,  in  a whisper. 
“ But  fear  nothing.  I will  defend  you  with  my  life.  Ah ! 
accursed  chance  ! I have  no  weapon.” 

“Hone  would  avail  against  him,”  murmured  the  fair 
Geraldine.  “ Lead  me  forth ; I shall  die  if  I stay  here.” 

Supporting  her  in  his  arms,  Surrey  complied,  but  they 
had  scarcely  gained  the  entrance  of  the  arbor,  when  a 
tall  figure  stood  before  them.  It  was  the  Duke  of  Rich- 
mond. A gleam  of  moonlight  penetrating  through  the 
leaves,  fell  upon  the  group,  and  rendered  them  distinctly 
visible  to  each  other. 

“ Soh ! ” exclaimed  the  duke,  after  regarding  the  pair 
in  silence  for  a moment,  “ I have  not  been  misinformed. 
You  have  contrived  a meeting  here.” 

“ Richmond  ! ” said  Surrey,  sternly,  “ we  once  were  dear 
and  loving  friends,  and  we  are  still  honorable  foes.  I 
know  that  I am  safe  with  you.  I know  you  will  breathe 
no  word  about  this  meeting,  either  to  the  fair  Geraldine’s 
prejudice  or  mine.” 

“You  judge  me  rightly,  my  lord,”  replied  the  duke,  in 
a tone  of  equal  sternness.  “ I have  no  thought  of  betray- 
ing you ; though,  by  a word  to  my  royal  father,  I could 
prevent  all  chance  of  future  rivalry  on  your  part.  I shall, 
however,  demand  a strict  account  from  you  on  your 
liberation.” 

“Your  grace  acts  as  beseems  a loyal  gentleman,”  re- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  291 

plied  Surrey.  “ Hereafter  I will  not  fail  to  account  to 
you  for  my  conduct  in  any  way  you  please.” 

“ Oh ! let  me  interpose  between  you,  my  lords,”  cried 
the  fair  Geraldine,  “to  prevent  the  disastrous  conse- 
quences of  this  quarrel.  I have  already  told  your  grace 
I cannot  love  you — and  that  my  heart  is  devoted  to  the 
Earl  of  Surrey.  Let  me  appeal  to  your  noble  nature — to 
your  generosity — not  to  persist  in  a hopeless  suit.” 

“ You  have  conquered,  madam,”  said  the  duke,  after  a 
pause.  “ I have  been  to  blame  in  this  matter.  But  I 
will  make  amends  for  my  error.  Surrey,  I relinquish 
her  to  you.” 

“ My  friend ! ” exclaimed  the  earl,  casting  himself  into 
the  duke’s  arms. 

“ I will  now  endeavor  to  heal  the  wounds  I have  unwit- 
tingly occasioned,”  said  the  fair  Geraldine.  “ I am  sur- 
prised your  grace  should  be  insensible  to  attractions  so 
far  superior  to  mine  as  those  of  the  Lady  Mary  Howard.” 

“ The  Lady  Mary  is  very  beautiful,  I confess,”  said  the 
duke ; “ and  if  you  had  not  been  in  the  way,  I should 
assuredly  have  been  her  captive.” 

“ I ought  not  to  betray  the  secret,  perhaps,”  hesitated 
the  fair  Geraldine,  “ but  gratitude  prompts  me  to  do  so. 
The  lady  is  not  so  blind  to  your  grace’s  merits  as  I have 
been.” 

“ Indeed  ! ” exclaimed  the  duke.  “ If  it  be  so,  Surrey, 
we  may  yet  be  brothers  as  well  as  friends.” 

“ And  that  it  is  so  I can  avouch,  Richmond,”  rejoined 
the  earl,  “ for  I am  in  my  sister’s  secret  as  well  as  the 
fair  Geraldine.  But  now  that  this  explanation  has  taken 
place,  I must  entreat  your  grace  to  conduct  the  fair 
Geraldine  back  to  her  lodgings,  while  I regain,  the  best 
way  I can,  my  chamber  in  the  Round  Tower.” 

“ I marvel  how  you  escaped  from  it,”  said  Richmond  ; 
“ but  I suppose  it  was  by  the  connivance  of  the  officer.” 


292 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ He  who  set  me  free — who  brought  the  fair  Geraldine 
hither — and  who,  I suspect,  acquainted  you  with  our 
meeting,  was  no  other  than  Herne  the  Hunter,”  replied 
Surrey. 

“You  amaze  me!”  exclaimed  the  duke;  “it  was  in- 
deed a tall  dark  man,  muffled  in  a cloak,  who  informed 
me  that  you  were  to  meet  at  midnight  in  King  James’s 
bower  in  the  moat,  and  I therefore  came  to  surprise  you.” 

“ Your  informant  was  Herne,”  replied  Surrey. 

“ Right ! ” exclaimed  the  demon,  stepping  from  behind 
a tree,  where  he  had  hitherto  remained  concealed ; “ it 
was  I, — I,  Herne  the  Hunter.  And  I contrived  the  meet- 
ing in  anticipation  of  a far  different  result  from  that 
which  has  ensued.  But  I now  tell  you,  my  lord  of  Sur- 
rey, that  it  is  idle  to  indulge  a passion  for  the  fair  Geral- 
dine. You  will  never  wed  her.” 

“ False  fiend,  thou  liest ! ” cried  Surrey. 

“ Time  will  show,”  replied  Herne.  “ I repeat,  you  will 
wed  another — and  more,  I tell  you,  you  are  blinder  than 
Richmond  has  shown  himself, — for  the  most  illustrious 
damsel  in  the  kingdom  has  regarded  you  with  eyes  of 
affection,  and  yet  you  have  not  perceived  it.” 

“ The  Princess  Mary  ? ” demanded  Richmond. 

“ Ay,  the  Princess  Mary,”  repeated  Herne.  “ How  say 
you  now,  my  lord? — will  you  let  ambition  usurp  the 
place  of  love  ? ” 

“ No,”  replied  Surrey.  “ But  I will  hold  no  further 
converse  with  thee.  Thou  wouldst  tempt  to  perdition. 
Hence,  fiend  ! ” 

“Unless  you  trust  yourself  to  my  guidance  you  will 
never  reach  your  chamber,”  rejoined  Herne,  with  a mock- 
ing laugh.  “ The  iron  door  in  the  mound  cannot;  be 
opened  on  this  side,  and  you  well  know  what  the  conse- 
quence of  a discovery  will  be.  Come,  or  I leave  you  to 
your  fate.”  And  he  moved  down  the  path  on  the  right. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


293 


44  Go  with  him,  Surrey,”  cried  Richmond. 

Pressing  the  fair  Geraldine  to  his  breast,  the  earl 
committed  her  to  the  charge  of  his  friend,  and  tearing 
himself  away,  followed  the  steps  of  the  demon.  He  had 
not  proceeded  far  when  he  heard  his  name  pronounced 
by  a voice  issuing  from  the  tree  above  him.  Looking  up, 
he  beheld  Herne  in  one  of  the  topmost  branches,  and  at  a 
sign,  instantly  climbed  up  to  him.  The  thick  foliage 
screened  them  from  observation,  and  Surrey  concluded 
his  guide  was  awaiting  the  disappearance  of  the  sentinel, 
who  was  at  that  moment  approaching  the  tree.  But 
such  apparently  was  not  the  other’s  intentions ; for  the 
man  had  scarcely  passed  than  Herne  sprang  upon  the  ram- 
parts, and  the  poor  fellow  turning  at  the  sound,  was  scared 
almost  out  of  his  senses  at  the  sight  of  the  dreaded  fiend. 
Dropping  his  halbert,  he  fell  upon  his  face  with  a stifled 
cry.  Herne  then  motioned  ^Surrey  to  descend,  and  they 
marched  together  quickly  to  a low  door  opening  into  the 
keep.  Passing  through  it,  and  ascending  a flight  of 
steps,  they  stood  upon  the  landing  at  the  top  of  the  stair- 
case communicating  with  the  Norman  tower,  and  adjoin- 
ing the  entrance  to  Surrey’s  chamber. 

Apparently  familiar  with  the  spot,  Herne  took  down  a 
large  key  from  a nail  in  the  wall,  against  which  it  hung, 
and  unlocked  the  door. 

44  Enter ! ” he  said  to  Surrey,  44  and  do  not  forget  the 
debt  you  owe  to  Herne  the  Hunter.” 

And  as  the  earl  stepped  into  the  chamber,  the  door 
was  locked  behind  him. 


294 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HOW  SIR  THOMAS  WYAT  FOUND  MABEL  IN  THE  SANDSTONE 
CAVE  ; AND  WHAT  HAPPENED  TO  HIM  THERE. 

A week  after  the  foregoing  occurrence,  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  was  set  free.  But  his  joy  at  regaining  his  liberty 
was  damped  by  learning  that  the  fair  Geraldine  had 
departed  for  Ireland.  She  had  left  the  tenderest  mes- 
sages for  him  with  his  sister,  the  Lady  Mary  Howard, 
accompanied  with  assurances  of  unalterable  attachment. 

But  other  changes  had  taken  place,  which  were  cal- 
culated to  afford  him  some  consolation.  Ever  since  the 
night  on  which  he  had  been  told  that  the  Lady  Mary 
was  not  indifferent  to  him,  Richmond  had  devoted  him- 
self entirely  to  her ; and  matters  had  already  proceeded 
so  far,  that  he  had  asked  her  in  marriage  of  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  who,  after  ascertaining  the  king’s  pleasure  on 
the  subject,  had  gladly  given  his  consent,  and  the  youth- 
ful pair  were  affianced  to  each  other.  Surrey  and  Rich- 
mond now  became  closer  friends  than  ever ; and  if,  amid 
the  thousand  distractions  of  Henry’s  gay  and  festive 
court,  the  young  earl  did  not  forget  the  fair  Geraldine, 
he  did  not,  at  least,  find  the  time  hang  heavily  on  his 
hands. 

About  a week  after  Wolsey’s  dismissal,  while  the  court 
was  still  sojourning  at  Windsor,  Surrey  proposed  to  Rich- 
mond, to  ride  one  morning  with  him  in  the  Great  Park. 
The  duke  willingly  assented,  and  mounting  their  steeds, 
they  galloped  towards  Snow  Hill,  wholly  unattended. 
While  mounting  this  charming  ascent  at  a more  leisurely 
pace,  the  earl  said  to  his  companion — “ I will  now  tell  you 
why  I proposed  this  ride  to  you,  Richmond.  I have  long 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


295 


determined  to  follow  up  the  adventure  of  Herne  the 
Hunter,  and  I wish  to  confer  with  you  about  it,  and 
ascertain  whether  you  are  disposed  to  join  me.” 

“ I know  not  what  to  say,  Surrey,”  replied  the  duke, 
gravely,  and  speaking  in  a low  tone ; “ the  king,  my  father, 
failed  in  his  endeavors  to  expel  the  demon,  who  still 
lords  it  in  the  forest.” 

“ The  greater  glory  to  us  if  we  succeed,”  said  Surrey. 

“I  will  take  counsel  with  the  Lady  Mary  on  the  subject 
before  I give  an  answer,”  rejoined  Richmond. 

“ Then  there  is  little  doubt  what  your  grace’s  decision 
will  be,”  laughed  Surrey.  “ To  speak  truth,  it  was  the 
fear  of  your  consulting  her  that  made  me  bring  you  here. 
What  say  you  to  a ride  in  the  forest  to-morrow  night  ? ” 

“ I have  little  fancy  for  it,”  replied  Richmond ; “ and  if 
you  will  be  ruled  by  me,  you  will  not  attempt  the  enter- 
prise yourself.” 

“ My  resolution  is  taken,”  said  the  earl ; “ but  now, 
since  we  have  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill,  let  us  push 
forward  to  the  lake.” 

A rapid  ride  of  some  twenty  minutes  brought  them  to 
the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  they  proceeded  along  the  verdant 
path  leading  to  the  forester’s  hut.  On  arriving  at  the 
dwelling,  it  appeared  wholly  deserted,  but  they  neverthe- 
less dismounted,  and  tying  their  horses  to  the  trees  at 
the  back  of  the  cottage,  entered  it.  While  they  were 
examining  the  lower  room,  the  plash  of  oars  reached  their 
ears,  and  rushing  to  the  window,  they  descried  the  skiff 
rapidly  approaching  the  shore.  A man  was  seated  within 
it,  whose  attire,  though  somber,  seemed  to  proclaim  him 
of  some  rank,  but  as  his  back  was  towards  them,  they 
could  not  discern  his  features.  In  another  instant,  the 
skiff  touched  the  strand,  and  the  rower  leaping  ashore, 
proved  to  be  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.  On  making  this  dis- 
covery they  both  ran  out  to  him,  and  the  warmest  greet- 


296 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


ings  passed  between  them.  When  these  were  over,  Surrey 
expressed  his  surprise  to  Wyat  at  seeing  him  there,  declar- 
ing he  was  wholly  unaware  of  his  return  from  the  court 
of  France. 

“I  came  back  about  a month  ago,”  said  Wyat.  “His 
majesty  supposes  me  at  Allington;  nor  shall  I return  to 
court  without  a summons.” 

“ I am  not  sorry  to  hear  it,”  said  Surrey ; “ but  what 
are  you  doing  here  ? ” 

“ My  errand  is  a strange  and  adventurous  one,”  replied 
Wyat.  “You  may  have  heard  that  before  I departed  for 
France  I passed  some  days  in  the  forest  in  company  with 
Herne  the  Hunter.  What  then  happened  to  me  I may 
not  disclose  ; but  I have  vowed  never  to  rest  till  I have 
freed  this  forest  from  the  weird  being  who  troubles  it.” 

“ Say  you  so ! ” cried  Surrey ; “ then  you  are  most 
fortunately  encountered,  Sir  Thomas,  for  I myself,  as 
Richmond  will  tell  you,  am  equally  bent  upon  the  fiend’s 
expulsion.  We  will  be  companions  in  the  adventure.” 

“We  will  speak  of  that  anon,”  replied  Wyat.  “ I was 
sorry  to  find  this  cottage  uninhabited,  and  the  fair  damsel 
who  dwelt  within  it,  when  I beheld  it  last,  gone.  What 
has  become  of  her  ? ” 

“ It  is  a strange  story,”  said  Richmond.  And  he  pro- 
ceeded to  relate  all  that  was  known  to  have  befallen  Mabel. 

Wyat  listened  with  profound  attention  to  the  recital, 
and  at  its  close  said, — “ I think  I can  find  a clue  to  this 
mystery,  but  to  obtain  it  I must  go  alone.  Meet  me  here 
at  midnight  to-morrow,  and  I doubt  not  we  shall  be  able 
to  accomplish  our  design.” 

“ May  I not  ask  for  some  explanation  of  your  scheme  ? ” 
said  Surrey. 

“ Not  yet,”  rejoined  Wyat.  “ But  I will  freely  confess 
to  you  that  there  is  much  danger  in  the  enterprise — danger 
that  I would  not  willingly  any  one  should  share  with  me, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


297 


especially  you,  Surrey,  to  whom  I owe  so  much.  If  you 
do  not  find  me  here,  therefore,  to-morrow  night,  conclude 
that  I have  perished,  or  am  captive.” 

“ Well,  be  it  as  you  will,  Wyat,”  said  Surrey;  “ but  I 
would  gladly  accompany  you,  and  share  your  danger.” 

“ I know  it,  and  I thank  you,”  returned  Wyat,  warmly 
grasping  the  other’s  hand ; “ but  much — nay,  all  may  re- 
main to  be  done  to-morrow  night.  You  had  better  bring 
some  force  with  you,  for  we  may  need  it.” 

“ I will  bring  half  a dozen  stout  archers,”  replied  Surrey 
— “ and  if  you  come  not,  depend  upon  it,  I will  either 
release  you  or  avenge  you.” 

“ I did  not  intend  to  prosecute  this  adventure  further,” 
said  Richmond ; “ but  since  you  are  both  resolved  to 
embark  in  it,  I will  not  desert  you.” 

Soon  after  this,  the  friends  separated, — Surrey  and 
Richmond  taking  horse  and  returning  to  the  castle,  dis- 
coursing on  the  unlooked-for  meeting  with  Wyat,  while 
the  latter  again  entered  the  skiff,  and  rowed  down  the 
lake.  As  soon  as  the  hut  was  clear,  two  persons  descended 
the  steps  of  a ladder  leading  to  a sort  of  loft  in  the  roof, 
and  sprang  upon  the  floor  of  the  hut. 

“ Ho ! ho ! ho ! ” laughed  the  foremost,  whose  antlered 
helm  and  wild  garb  proclaimed  him  to  be  Herne,  “ they 
little  dreamed  who  were  the  hearers  of  their  conference 
So  they  think  to  take  me,  Fen  wolf — ha  ! ” 

“ They  know  not  whom  they  have  to  deal  with,”  re- 
joined the  latter. 

“ They  should  do  so  by  this  time,”  said  Herne ; “ but  I 
will  tell  thee  why  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  has  undertaken  this 
enterprise.  It  is  not  to  capture  me,  though  that  may  be 
one  object  that  moves  him.  But  he  wishes  to  see  Mabel 
Lyndwood.  The  momentary  glimpse  he  caught  of  her 
bright  eyes  was  sufficient  to  inflame  him.” 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed  Fen  wolf ; “ think  you  so  ? ” 


298 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ I am  assured  of  it,”  replied  Herne.  “ He  knows  the 
secret  of  the  cave,  and  will  find  her  there.” 

“ But  he  will  never  return  to  tell  what  he  has  seen,” 
said  Fen  wolf,  moodily. 

“ I know  not  that,”  replied  Herne.  “ I have  my  own 
views  respecting  him.  I want  to  renew  my  hand.” 

“ He  will  never  join  you,”  rejoined  Fen  wolf. 

“ What  if  I offer  him  Mabel  as  a bait  ? ” said  Herne. 

“ You  will  not  do  so,  dread  master  ? ” rejoined  Fen  wolf, 
trembling  and  turning  pale.  “ She  belongs  to  me.” 

“ To  thee,  fool ! ” cried  Herne,  with  a derisive  laugh. 
“ Thinkest  thou  I would  resign  such  a treasure  to  thee  ? 
No,  no.  But  rest  easy,  I will  not  give  her  to  Wyat.” 

“You  mean  her  for  yourself,  then?”  said  Fen  wolf. 

“ Darest  thou  to  question  me ! ” cried  Herne,  striking 
him  with  the  hand  armed  with  the  iron  gyves.  “ This 
to  teach  thee  respect ! ” 

“ And  this  to  prove  whether  thou  art  mortal  or  not ! ” 
rejoined  Fen  wolf,  plucking  his  hunting-knife  from  his 
belt,  and  striking  it  with  all  his  force,  against  the  other’s 
breast. 

But  though  surely  and  forcibly  dealt,  the  blow  glanced 
off  as  if  the  demon  were  cased  in  steel,  and  the  intended 
assassin  fell  back  in  amazement,  while  an  unearthly 
laugh  rang  in  his  ears.  Never  had  Fen  wolf  seen  Herne 
wear  so  formidable  a look  as  he  at  that  moment  assumed. 
His  giant  frame  dilated ; his  eyes  flashed  fire ; and  the 
expression  of  his  countenance  was  so  fearful  that  Fen  wolf 
shielded  his  eyes  with  his  hands. 

“ Ah  ! miserable  dog  ! ” thundered  Herne ; “ dost  thou 
think  I am  to  be  hurt  by  mortal  hands,  or  mortal  wea- 
pons ? Thy  former  experience  should  have  taught  thee 
differently.  But  since  thou  hast  provoked  it,  take  thy 
fate ! ” 

Uttering  these  words,  he  seized  Fen  wolf  by  the  throat, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


299 


clutching  him  with  a terrific  gripe,  and  in  a few  seconds 
the  miserable  wretch  would  have  paid  the  penalty  of  his 
rashness,  if  a person  had  not  at  the  moment  appeared  at 
the  doorway.  Flinging  his  prey  hastily  backwards,  Herne 
turned  at  the  interruption,  and  perceived  old  Tristram 
Lyndwood,  who  looked  appalled  at  what  he  beheld. 

“ Ah ! it  is  thou,  Tristram,”  cried  Herne ; “ thou  art 
just  in  time  to  witness  the  punishment  of  this  rebellious 
hound.” 

“ Spare  him,  dread  master ! — oh,  spare  him ! ” cried 
Tristram,  imploringly. 

“ Well,”  said  Herne,  gazing  at  the  half-strangled  caitiff, 
“ he  may  live.  He  will  not  offend  again.  But  why  hast 
thou  ventured  from  thy  hiding-place,  Tristram  ? ” 

“ I came  to  inform  you  that  I have  just  observed  a per- 
son row  across  the  lake  in  the  skiff,”  replied  the  old  man. 
“He  appears  to  be  taking  the  direction  of  the  secret 
entrance  to  the  cave.” 

“It  is  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,”  replied  Herne,  “I  am  aware 
of  his  proceedings.  Stay  with  Fenwolf  till  he  is  able  to 
move,  and  then  proceed  with  him  to  the  cave.  But  mark 
me,  no  violence  must  be  done  to  Wyat  if  you  find  him 
there.  Any  neglect  of  my  orders  in  this  respect  will  be 
followed  by  severe  punishment.  I shall  be  at  the  cave 
ere  long ; but,  meanwhile,  I have  other  business  to  trans- 
act.” 

And  quitting  the  hut,  he  plunged  into  the  wood. 

Meanwhile,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  having  crossed  the  lake, 
landed,  and  fastened  the  skiff  to  a tree,  struck  into  the 
wood,  and  presently  reached  the  open  space  in  which  lay 
the  secret  entrance  to  the  cave.  He  was  not  long  in 
finding  the  stone,  though  it  was  so  artfully  concealed  by 
the  brushwood  that  it  would  have  escaped  any  unin- 
structed eye,  and  removing  it,  the  narrow  entrance  to  the 
cave  was  revealed. 


300 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Committing  himself  to  the  protection  of  Heaven,  Wyat 
entered,  and  having  taken  the  precaution  of  drawing  the 
stone  after  him,  which  was  easily  accomplished  by  a 
handle  fixed  to  the  inner  side  of  it,  he  commenced  the 
descent.  At  first,  he  had  to  creep  along,  but  the  passage 
gradually  got  higher,  until  at  length,  on  reaching  the  level 
ground,  he  was  able  to  stand  upright.  There  was  no  light 
to  guide  him,  but  by  feeling  against  the  sides  of  the  pas- 
sage, he  found  that  he  was  in  the  long  gallery  he  had 
formerly  threaded.  Uncertain  which  way  to  turn,  he 
determined  to  trust  to  chance  for  taking  the  right  direc- 
tion, and  drawing  his  sword  proceeded  slowly  to  the  right. 

For  some  time,  he  encountered  no  obstacle,  neither 
could  he  detect  the  slightest  sound,  but  he  perceived  that 
the  atmosphere  grew  damp,  and  that  the  sides  of  the  pas- 
sage were  covered  with  moisture.  Thus  warned,  he  pro- 
ceeded with  greater  caution — and  presently  found,  after 
emerging  into  a more  open  space,  and  striking  off  on  the 
left,  that  he  had  arrived  at  the  edge  of  the  pool  of  water 
which  he  knew  lay  at  the  end  of  the  large  cavern. 

While  considering  how  he  should  next  proceed,  a faint 
gleam  of  light  became  visible  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
vault.  Changing  his  position,  for  the  pillars  prevented 
him  from  seeing  the  source  of  the  glimmer,  he  discovered 
that  it  issued  from  a lamp  borne  by  a female  hand,  who 
he  had  no  doubt  was  Mabel.  On  making  this  discovery, 
he  sprang  forward,  and  called  to  her,  but  instantly  re- 
pented his  rashness,  for  as  he  uttered  the  cry  the  light 
was  extinguished. 

Wyat  was  now  completely  at  a loss  how  to  proceed. 
He  was  satisfied  that  Mabel  was  in  the  vault ; but  in 
what  way  to  guide  himself  to  her  retreat,  he  could  not 
tell;  and  it  was  evident  she  herself  would  not  assist  him. 
Persuaded,  however,  if  he  could  but  make  himself  known, 
he  should  no  longer  be  shunned,  he  entered  one  of  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


301 


lateral  passages,  and  ever  and  anon,  as  he  proceeded,  re- 
peated Mabel’s  name  in  a low  soft  tone.  The  stratagem 
was  successful.  Presently,  he  heard  a light  footstep 
approaching  him,  and  a gentle  voice  inquired — • 

“Who  calls  me?” 

“ A friend,”  replied  Wyat. 

“ Your  name  ? ” she  demanded. 

“ You  will  not  know  me  if  I declare  myself,  Mabel,”  he 
replied  ; “but  I am  called  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.” 

“ The  name  is  well  known  to  me,”  she  replied,  in  trem- 
bling tones  ; “ and  I have  seen  you  once — at  my  grand- 
father’s cottage.  But  why  have  you  come  here? — Do 
you  know  where  you  are  ? ” 

“ I know  that  I am  in  the  cave  of  Herne  the  Hunter,” 
replied  Wyat;  “and  one  of  my  motives  for  seeking  it 
was  to  set  you  free.  But  there  is  nothing  to  prevent 
your  flight  now.” 

“ Alas  ! there  is,”  she  replied.  “ I am  chained  here  by 
bonds  I cannot  break.  Herne  has  declared  that  any  at- 
tempt at  escape  on  my  part  shall  be  followed  by  the  death 
of  my  grandsire.  And  he  does  not  threaten  idly,  as  no 
doubt  you  know.  Besides,  the  most  terrible  vengeance 
would  fall  on  my  own  head.  No, — I cannot — dare  not 
fly.  But  let  us  not  talk  in  the  dark.  Come  with  me  to 
procure  a light.  Give  me  your  hand,  and  I will  lead  you 
to  my  cell.” 

Taking  the  small,  trembling  hand  offered  him,  Wyat 
followed  his  conductress  down  the  passage.  A few  steps 
brought  them  to  a door,  which  she  pushed  aside  and  dis- 
closed a small  chamber,  hewn  out  of  the  rock,  in  a recess 
of  which  a lamp  was  burning.  Lighting  the  other  lamp 
which  she  had  recently  extinguished  she  placed  it  on  a 
rude  table. 

“ Have  you  been  long  a prisoner  here? ” asked  Wyat, 
fixing  his  regards  upon  her  countenance,  which,  though 


302 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


it  had  lost  somewhat  of  its  bloom,  had  gained  much  in 
interest  and  beauty. 

“ For  three  months,  I suppose,”  she  replied ; “ but  I am 
not  able  to  calculate  the  lapse  of  time.  It  has  seemed 
very, — very  long.  Oh  that  I could  behold  the  sun  again, 
and  breathe  the  fresh,  pure  air  ! ” 

“ Come  with  me,  and  you  shall  do  so,”  rejoined  Wyat. 

“ I have  told  you  I cannot  fly,”  she  answered.  “ I can- 
not sacrifice  my  grandsire.” 

“But  if  he  is  leagued  with  this  demon  he  deserves 
the  worst  fate  that  can  befall  him,”  said  Wyat.  “You 
should  think  only  of  your  own  safety.  What  can  be  the 
motive  of  your  detention  ? ” 

“ I tremble  to  think  of  it,”  she  replied  ; “ but  I fear 
that  Herne  has  conceived  a passion  for  me.” 

“Then  indeed  you  must  fly,”  cried  Wyat ; “ such  un- 
hallowed love  will  lead  to  perdition  of  soul  and  body.” 

“ Oh  that  there  was  any  hope  for  me  ! ” she  ejaculated. 

“There  is  hope,”  replied  Wyat.  “I  will  protect  you 
— will  care  for  you — will  love  you.” 

“ Love  me  ! ” exclaimed  Mabel,  a deep  blush  overspread- 
ing her  pale  features.  “ You  love  another.” 

“ Absence  has  enabled  me  to  overcome  the  vehemence 
of  my  passion,”  replied  Wyat,  “and  I feel  that  my  heart 
is  susceptible  of  new  emotions.  But  you,  maiden,”  he 
added,  coldly,  “ you  were  captivated  by  the  admiration  of 
the  king.” 

“ My  love,  like  yours,  is  past,”  she  answered,  with  a 
faint  smile  ; “ but  if  I were  out  of  Herne’s  power  I feel 
that  I could  love  again,  and  far  more  deeply  than  I loved 
before — for  that,  in  fact,  was  rather  the  result  of  vanity 
than  of  real  regard.” 

“ Mabel,”  said  Wyat,  taking  her  hand,  and  gazing  into 
her  eyes,  “ if  I set  you  free,  will  you  love  me  ? ” 

“ I love  you  already,”  she  replied  ; “but  if  that  could 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


303 


be,  my  whole  life  should  be  devoted  to  you. — Ha ! ” 
she  exclaimed,  with  a sudden  change  of  tone,  “ footsteps 
are  approaching;  it  is  Fenwolf.  Hide  yourself  within 
that  recess.” 

Though  doubting  the  prudence  of  the  course,  Wyat 
yielded  to  her  terrified  and  imploring  looks,  and  con- 
cealed himself  in  the  manner  she  had  indicated.  He  was 
scarcely  ensconced  in  the  recess,  when  the  door  opened, 
and  Morgan  Fenwolf  stepped  in,  followed  by  her  grand- 
father. Fenwolf  gazed  suspiciously  round  the  little 
chamber,  and  then  glanced  significantly  at  old  Tristram, 
but  he  made  no  remark. 

“ What  brings  you  here  ? ” demanded  Mabel,  trem- 
blingly. 

“ You  are  wanted  in  the  cave,”  said  Fenwolf. 

“ I will  follow  you  anon,”  she  replied. 

“ You  must  come  at  once,”  rejoined  Fenwolf,  authori- 
tatively. “ Herne  will  become  impatient.” 

Upon  this,  Mabel  rose,  and  without  daring  to  cast  a 
look  towards  the  spot  where  Wyat  was  concealed,  quitted 
the  cell  with  them.  No  sooner  were  they  all  out,  than 
Fenwolf  hastily  shutting  the  door,  turned  the  key  in  the 
lock,  and  taking  it  out,  exclaimed — “ So  we  have  secured 
you,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.  No  fear  of  your  revealing  the 
secret  of  the  cave  now,  or  flying  with  Mabel — ha ! ha ! ” 


304 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN  WHAT  MANNER  HERNE  DECLARED  HIS  PASSION  FOR 
MABEL. 

Utterly  disregarding  her  cries  and  entreaties,  Fen- 
wolf  dragged  Mabel  into  the  great  cavern,  and  forced  her 
to  take  a seat  on  a bench  near  the  spot  where  a heap  of 
ashes  showed  that  the  fire  was  ordinarily  lighted.  All 
this  while,  her  grandfather  had  averted  his  face  from  her, 
as  if  fearing  to  meet  her  regards,  and  he  now  busied  him- 
self in  striking  a light  and  setting  fire  to  a pile  of  fagots 
and  small  logs  of  wood. 

“ I thought  you  told  me  Herne  was  here,”  said  Mabel, 
in  a tone  of  bitter  reproach,  to  Fenwolf,  who  seated  him- 
self beside  her  on  the  bench. 

“ He  will  be  here  ere  long,”  he  replied,  sullenly. 

“ Oh,  do  not  detain  Sir  Thomas  Wyat ! ” cried  Mabel, 
piteously ; “ do  not  deliver  him  to  your  dread  master ! 
I)o  what  you  will  with  me, — but  let  him  go.” 

“ I will  tell  you  what  I will  do,”  replied  Fenyolf,  in  a 
low  tone  ; “ I will  set  Sir  Thomas  at  liberty,  and  run  all 
risks  of  Herne’s  displeasure,  if  you  will  promise  to  be 
mine.” 

Mabel  replied  by  a look  of  unutterable  disgust. 

“Then  he  will  await  Herne’s  coming  where  he  is,” 
rejoined  Fenwolf. 

Saying  which  he  arose,  and  pushing  a table  near  the 
bench,  took  the  remains  of  a huge  venison  pasty  and  a 
loaf  from  a hutch  standing  on  one  side  of  the  cavern. 

By  this  time,  old  Tristram  having  succeeded  in  lighting 
the  fire,  placed  himself  at  the  further  end  of  the  table, 
and  fell  to  work  upon  the  viands  with  Fenwolf.  Mabel 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


305 


was  pressed  to  partake  of  the  repast,  but  she  declined  the 
offer.  A large  stone  bottle  was  next  produced  and  emp- 
tied of  its  contents  by  the  pair,  who  seemed  well-contented 
with  their  regale. 

Meanwhile,  Mabel  was  revolving  the  possibility  of  flight, 
and  had  more  than  once  determined  to  make  an  attempt, 
but  fear  restrained  her.  Her  grandsire,  as  has  been  stated, 
sedulously  avoided  her  gaze,  and  turned  a deaf  ear  to  her 
complaints  and  entreaties.  But  once,  when  Fenwolf’s 
back  was  turned,  she  caught  him  gazing  at  her  with 
peculiar  significance,  and  then  comprehended  the  mean- 
ing of  his  strange  conduct.  He  evidently  only  awaited 
an  opportunity  to  assist  her. 

Satisfied  of  this,  she  became  more  tranquil,  and  about 
an  hour  having  elapsed,  during  which  nothing  was  said 
by  the  party,  the  low  winding  of  a horn  was  heard,  and 
Fen  wolf  started  to  his  feet,  exclaiming — 

“ It  is  Herne ! ” 

The  next  moment,  the  demon  huntsman  rode  from  one 
of  the  lateral  passages  into  the  cave.  He  was  mounted 
on  a wild-looking  black  horse,  with  flowing  mane  and  tail, 
eyes  glowing  like  carbuncles,  and  in  all  respects  resembling 
the  sable  steed  he  had  lost  in  the  forest. 

Springing  to  the  ground,  he  exchanged  a few  words 
with  Fenwolf,  in  a low  tone,  and  delivering  his  steed  to 
him,  with  orders  to  take  it  to  the  stable,  signed  to  Tris- 
tram to  go  with  him,  and  approached  Mabel. 

“ So  you  have  seen  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  I find,”  he  said, 
in  a stern  tone. 

Mabel  made  no  answer,  and  did  not  even  raise  her  eyes 
towards  him. 

“ And  he  has  told  you  he  loves  you,  and  has  urged  you 
to  fly  with  him — ha  ? ” pursued  Herne. 

Mabel  still  did  not  dare  to  look  up,  but  a deep  blush 
overspread  her  cheek. 


306 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ He  was  mad  to  venture  hither,”  continued  Herne ; 
“ but  having  done  so,  he  must  take  the  consequences.” 

“You  will  not  destroy  him?”  cried  Mabel,  imploringly. 

“ He  will  perish  by  a hand  as  terrible  as  mine,”  laughed 
Herne — “by  that  of  famine.  He  will  never  quit  the 
dungeon  alive,  unless ” 

“ Unless  what  ? ” gasped  Mabel. 

“ Unless  he  is  leagued  with  me,”  replied  Herne.  “ And 
now  let  him  pass,  for  I would  speak  of  myself.  I have 
already  told  you  that  I love  you,  and  am  resolved  to  make 
you  mine.  You  shudder,  but  wherefore  ? It  is  a glorious 
destiny  to  be  the  bride  of  the  wild  hunter — the  fiend  who 
rules  the  forest,  and  who  in  his  broad  domain  is  more 
powerful  than  the  king.  The  old  forester,  Robin  Hood, 
had  his  maid  Marian ; and  what  was  he  compared  to  me  ? 
He  had  neither  my  skill,  nor  my  power.  Be  mine,  and 
you  shall  accompany  me  on  my  midnight  rides ; shall 
watch  the  fleet  stag  dart  over  the  moonlight  glade,  or 
down  the  lengthened  vista.  You  shall  feel  all  the  un- 
utterable excitement  of  the  chase.  You  shall  thread  with 
me  the  tangled  grove  ; swim  the  river  and  the  lake  ; and 
enjoy  a thousand  pleasures  hitherto  unknown  to  you. 
Be  mine,  and  I will  make  you  mistress  of  all  my  secrets, 
and  compel  the  band  whom  I will  gather  round  me,  to 
pay  you  homage.  Be  mine,  and  you  shall  have  power  of 
life  and  death  over  them,  as  if  you  were  absolute  queen. 
And  from  me,  whom  all  fear,  and  all  obey,  you  shall  have 
love  and  worship.” 

And  he  would  have  taken  her  hand,  but  she  recoiled 
from  him  with  horror. 

“ Though  I now  inspire  you  with  terror  and  aversion,” 
pursued  Herne,  “ the  time  will  come  when  you  will  love 
me  as  passionately  as  I was  beloved  by  one  of  whom  you 
are  the  image.” 

“And  she  is  dead  ? ” asked  Mabel,  with  curiosity. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


307 


“ Dead  ! ” exclaimed  Herne.  “ Thrice  fifty  years  have 
flown  since  she  dwelt  upon  earth.  The  acorn  which  was 
then  shed  in  the  forest  has  grown  into  a lusty  oak,  while 
trees  at  that  time  in  their  pride  have  fallen  and  decayed 
away.  Dead ! — yes,  she  has  passed  from  all  memory  save 
mine,  where  she  will  ever  dwell.  Generations  of  men 
have  gone  down  to  the  grave  since  her  time — a succession 
of  kings  have  lodged  within  the  castle — but  I am  still  a 
denizen  of  the  forest.  For  crimes  I then  committed,  I 
am  doomed  to  wander  within  it ; and  I shall  haunt  it, 
unless  released,  till  the  crack  of  doom.” 

“ Liberate  me  ! ” cried  Mabel ; “ liberate  your  other 
prisoner  and  we  will  pray  for  your  release.” 

“No  more  of  this!”  cried  Herne,  fiercely.  “If  you 
would  not  call  down  instant  and  terrible  punishment  on 
your  head — punishment  that  I cannot  avert,  and  must 
inflict— you  will  mention  nothing  sacred  in  my  hearing — 
and  never  allude  to  prayer.  I am  beyond  the  reach  of 
salvation.” 

“ Oh,  say  not  so ! ” cried  Mabel,  in  a tone  of  commisera- 
tion. 

“ I will  tell  you  how  my  doom  was  accomplished,”  re- 
joined Herne,  wildly.  “ To  gain  her  of  whom  I have  just 
spoken,  and  who  was  already  vowed  to  Heaven,  I invoked 
the  powers  of  darkness.  I proffered  my  soul  to  the  Evil 
One  if  he  would  secure  her  to  me ; and  the  condition  de- 
manded by  him  was  that  I should  become  what  I am — 
the  fiend  of  the  forest,  with  power  to  terrify  and  to  tempt, 
and  with  other  more  fearful  and  fatal  powers  besides.” 

“ Oh  ! ” exclaimed  Mabel. 

“ I grasped  at  the  offer,”  pursued  Herne.  “ She  I loved 
became  mine.  But  she  was  speedily  snatched  from  me 
by  death, — and  since  then  I have  known  no  human  pas- 
sion except  hatred  and  revenge.  I have  dwelt  in  this 
forest,  sometimes  alone — sometimes  at  the  head  of  a 


308 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


numerous  band — but  always  exerting  a baneful  influence 
over  mankind.  At  last,  I saw  the  image  of  her  I loved 
again  appear  before  me,  and  the  old  passion  was  revived 
within  my  breast.  Chance  has  thrown  you  in  my  way, — 
and  mine  you  shall  be,  Mabel ! ” 

“ I will  die  rather,”  she  replied,  with  a shudder. 

“ You  cannot  escape  me,”  rejoined  Herne,  with  a tri- 
umphant laugh;  “you  cannot  avoid  your  fate.  But  I 
want  not  to  deal  harshly  with  you.  I love  you,  and  would 
win  you  rather  by  persuasion  than  by  force.  Consent  to 
be  mine,  then,  and  I give  Wyat  his  life  and  liberty.” 

“ I cannot — I cannot ! ” she  replied. 

“Not  only  do  I offer  you  Wyat’s  life  as  the  price  of 
your  compliance,”  persevered  Herne ; “but  you  shall  have 
whatever  else  you  may  seek — jewels,  ornaments,  costly 
attire,  treasure, — for  of  such  I possess  a goodly  store.” 

“ And  of  what  use  would  they  be  to  me  here  ? ” said 
Mabel. 

“ I will  not  always  confine  you  to  this  cave,”  replied 
Herne.  “ You  shall  go  where  you  please — and  live  as 
you  please — but  you  must  come  to  me  whenever  I sum- 
mon you.” 

“ And  what  of  my  grandsire  ? ” she  demanded. 

“ Tristram  Lyndwood  is  no  relative  of  yours,”  replied 
Herne.  “ I will  now  clear  up  the  mystery  that  hangs  over 
your  birth.  You  are  the  offspring  of  one  who  for  years 
has  exercised  greater  sway  than  the  king  within  this 
realm,  but  who  is  now  disgraced  and  ruined,  and  nigh  his 
end.  His  priestly  vows  forbid  him  to  own  you,  even  if 
he  desired  to  do  so.” 

“ Have  I seen  him  ? ” demanded  Mabel. 

“ You  have,  ” replied  Herne — “ and  he  has  seen  you — 
and  little  did  he  know  when  he  sought  you  out,  that  he 
was  essaying  to  maintain  his  own  power,  and  overturn 
that  of  another  by  the  dishonor  of  his  daughter — though 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  309 

if  he  had  done  so,”  he  added  with  a scoffing  laugh — “ it 
might  not  have  restrained  him.” 

“ I know  whom  you  mean,”  said  Mabel.  “ And  is  it 
possible  he  can  be  my  father  ? ” 

“It  is  as  I have  told  you,”  replied  Herne.  “You  now 
know  my  resolve.  To-morrow  at  midnight  our  nuptials 
shall  take  place.” 

“ Nuptials  ! ” echoed  Mabel. 

“ Ay,  at  that  altar,”  he  cried,  pointing  to  the  Druid 
pile  of  stones — “ there  you  shall  vow  yourself  to  me  and 
I to  you,  before  terrible  witnesses.  I shall  have  no  fear 
that  you  will  break  your  oath.  Reflect  upon  what  I have 
said.” 

With  this,  he  placed  the  bugle  to  his  lips,  blew  a low 
call  upon  it,  and  Fenwolf  and  Tristram  immediately 
answering  the  summons,  he  whispered  some  instructions 
to  the  former,  and  disappeared  down  one  of  the  side 
passages. 

Fenwolf s deportment  was  now  more  sullen  than  be- 
fore. In  vain  did  Mabel  inquire  from  him  what  Herne 
was  about  to  do  with  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.  He  returned 
no  answer,  and  at  last,  wearied  by  her  importunity,  de- 
sired her  to  hold  her  peace.  Just  then,  Tristram  quitted 
the  cavern  for  a moment,  when  he  instantly  changed  his 
manner,  and  said  to  her  quickly, — 

“I  overheard  what  passed  between  you  and  Herne. 
Consent  to  be  mine,  and  I will  deliver  you  from  him.” 

“ That  were  to  exchange  one  evil  for  another,”  she  re- 
plied. “If  you  would  serve  me,  deliver  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat.” 

“ I will  only  deliver  him  on  the  terms  I have  men- 
tioned,” replied  Fenwolf. 

At  this  moment,  Tristram  returned,  and  the  conversa- 
tion ceased. 

Fresh  logs  were  then  thrown  on  the  fire  by  Fenwolf, 


310 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


and,  at  his  request,  Tristram  proceeded  to  a hole  in  the 
rock,  which  served  as  a sort  of  larder,  and  brought  from 
it  some  pieces  of  venison,  which  were  broiled  upon  the 
embers. 

At  the  close  of  the  repast,  of  which  she  sparingly  par- 
took, Mabel  was  conducted  by  Morgan  Fenwolf  into  a 
small  chamber  opening  out  of  the  great  cavern,  which  was 
furnished,  like  the  cell  she  had  lately  occupied,  with  a 
small  straw  pallet.  Leaving  her  a lamp,  Fenwolf  locked 
the  door,  and  placed  the  key  in  his  girdle. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


311 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOW  SIR  THOMAS  WYAT  WAS  VISITED  BY  HERNE  IN  THE  CELL. 

Made  aware  by  the  clangor  of  the  lock,  and  Fenwolf  s 
exulting  laughter,  of  the  snare  in  which  he  had  been 
caught,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  instantly  sprang  from  his  hid- 
ing-place, and  rushed  to  the  door ; but  being  framed  of 
the  stoutest  oak,  and  strengthened  with  plates  of  iron,  it 
defied  all  his  efforts,  nerved  as  they  were  by  rage  and 
despair,  to  burst  it  open.  Mabel’s  shrieks,  as  she  was 
dragged  away,  reached  his  ears,  and  increased  his  an- 
guish; and  he  called  out  loudly  to  her  companions  to 
return,  but  his  vociferations  were  only  treated  with 
derision. 

Finding  it  useless  to  struggle  further,  Wyat  threw  him- 
self upon  the  bench,  and  endeavored  to  discover  some 
means  of  deliverance  from  his  present  hazardous  position. 
He  glanced  round  the  cell  to  see  whether  there  was  any 
other  outlet  than  the  doorway,  but  he  could  discern  none, 
except  a narrow  grated  loophole  opening  upon  the  pas- 
sage, and  contrived,  doubtless,  for  the  admission  of  air  to 
the  chamber.  No  dungeon  could  be  more  secure. 

Raising  the  lamp,  he  examined  every  crevice,  but  all 
seemed  solid  stone.  The  recess  in  which  he  had.  taken 
shelter,  proved  to  be  a mere  hollow  in  the  wall.  In  one 
corner  lay  a small  straw  pallet,  which,  no  doubt,  had 
formed  the  couch  of  Mabel ; and  this,  together  with  the 
stone  bench  and  rude  table  of  the  same  material  constitu- 
ted the  sole  furniture  of  the  place. 

Having  taken  this  careful  survey  of  the  cell, Wyat  again 
sat  down  upon  the  bench  with  the  conviction  that  escape 
was  out  of  the  question;  and  he  therefore  endeavored 


312 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


to  prepare  himself  for  the  worst,  for  it  was  more  than 
probable  he  would  be  allowed  to  perish  of  starvation.  To 
a fiery  nature  like  his,  the  dreadful  uncertainty  in  which 
he  was  placed  was  more  difficult  of  endurance  than  bodily 
torture.  And  he  was  destined  to  endure  it  long.  Many 
hours  flew  by,  during  which  nothing  occurred  to  relieve 
the  terrible  monotony  of  his  situation.  At  length,  in 
spite  of  his  anxiety,  slumber  stole  upon  him  unawares ; 
but  it  was  filled  with  frightful  visions. 

How  long  he  slept  he  knew  not,  but  when  he  awoke, 
he  found  that  the  cell  must  have  been  visited  in  the  inter- 
val, for  there  was  a manchet  of  bread,  part  of  a cold  neck 
of  venison,  and  a flask  of  wine  on  the  table.  It  was  evi- 
dent, therefore,  that  his  captors  did  not  mean  to  starve 
him,  and  yielding  to  the  promptings  of  appetite,  he  at- 
tacked the  provisions,  determined  to  keep  strict  watch 
when  his  jailer  should  next  visit  him. 

The  repast  finished,  he  again  examined  the  cell,  but 
with  no  better  success  than  before ; and  he  felt  almost 
certain,  from  the  position  in  which  the  bench  was  placed, 
that  the  visitor  had  not  found  entrance  through  the 
door. 

After  another  long  and  dreary  interval,  finding  that 
sleep  was  stealing  upon  him  fast,  he  placed  the  bench 
near  the  door,  and  leaned  his  back  against  the  latter,  cer- 
tain that  in  this  position  he  should  be  wakened  if  any  one 
attempted  to  gain  admittance  in  that  way.  His  slumber 
was  again  disturbed  by  fearful  dreams  ; and  he  was  at 
length  aroused  by  a touch  upon  the  shoulder,  while  a 
deep  voice  shouted  his  own  name  in  his  ears. 

Starting  to  his  feet,  and  scarcely  able  to  separate  the 
reality  from  the  hideous  phantasms  that  had  troubled 
him,  he  found  that  the  door  was  still  fastened,  and  the 
bench  unremoved,  while  before  him  stood  Herne  the 
Hunter. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


313 


“ Welcome  again  to  my  cave,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat!” 
cried  the  demon,  with  a mocking  laugh ; 44  I told  you,  on 
the  night  of  the  attempt  upon  the  king,  that  though  you 
escaped  him , you  would  not  escape  me . And  so  it  has 
come  to  pass.  You  are  now  wholly  in  my  power,  body 
and  soul — ha  ! ha ! ” 

44 1 defy  you,  false  fiend,”  replied  Wyat.  44 1 was  mad 
enough  to  proffer  you  my  soul  on  certain  conditions ; but 
they  have  never  been  fulfilled.” 

44  They  may  yet  be  so,”  rejoined  Herne. 

44  No,”  replied  Wyat,  44 1 have  purged  my  heart  from 
the  fierce  and  unhallowed  passion  that  swayed  it.  I de- 
sire no  assistance  from  you.” 

44  If  you  have  changed  your  mind  that  is  nought  to  me,” 
rejoined  the  demon,  derisively — 44 1 shall  hold  you  to 
your  compact.” 

44  Again  I say  I renounce  you,  infernal  spirit ! ” cried 
Wyat — 44  you  may  destroy  my  body — but  you  can  work 
no  mischief  to  my  soul.” 

44  You  alarm  yourself  without  reason,  good  Sir  Thomas,” 
replied  Herne,  in  a slightly  sneering  tone.  44 1 am  not  the 
malignant  being  you  suppose  me ; neither  am  I bent  upon 
fighting  the  battles  of  the  enemy  of  mankind  against 
Heaven.  I may  be  leagued  with  the  powers  of  darkness, 
but  I have  no  wish  to  aid  them ; and  I therefore  leave 
you  to  take  care  of  your  soul  in  your  own  way.  What  I 
desire  from  you  is  your  service  while  living.  Now  listen 
to  the  conditions  I have  to  propose.  You  must  bind 
yourself  by  a terrible  oath,  the  slightest  infraction  of 
which  shall  involve  the  perdition  of  the  soul  you  are  so 
solicitous  to  preserve,  not  to  disclose  aught  you  may  see, 
or  that  may  be  imparted  to  you  here.  You  must  also 
swear  implicit  obedience  to  me  in  all  things — to  execute 
any  secret  commissions,  of  whatever  nature,  I may  give 
you — to  bring  associates  to  my  band — and  to  join  me  in 


314 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


any  enterprise  I may  propose.  This  oath  taken,  you  are 
free.  Refuse  it,  and  I leave  you  to  perish.” 

“I  do  refuse  it,”  replied  Wyat,  boldly.  “I  would  die 
a thousand  deaths  rather  than  so  bind  myself.  Neither 
do  I fear  being  left  to  perish  here.  You  shall  not  quit 
this  cell  without  me.” 

“ You  are  a stout  soldier,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,”  rejoined 
the  demon,  with  a scornful  laugh  ; “ but  you  are  scarcely 
a match  for  Herne  the  Hunter,  as  you  will  find,  if  you  are 
rash  enough  to  make  the  experiment.  Beware  ! ” he  ex- 
claimed, in  a voice  of  thunder,  observing  the  knight  lay 
his  hand  upon  his  sword,  “ I am  invulnerable,  and  you 
will,  therefore,  vainly  strike  at  me.  Do  not  compel  me 
to  use  the  dread  means,  which  I could  instantly  employ, 
to  subject  you  to  my  will.  I mean  you  well,  and  would 
rather  serve  than  injure  you.  But  I will  not  let  you  go, 
unless  you  league  yourself  with  me.  Swear,  therefore 
obedience  to  me,  and  depart  hence  to  your  friends,  Surrey 
and  Richmond,  and  tell  them  you  have  failed  to  find  me.” 

“ You  know,  then,  of  our  meeting?  ” exclaimed  Wyat., 

“ Perfectly  well,”  laughed  Herne.  “ It  is  now  eventide, 
and  at  midnight  the  meeting  will  take  place  in  the 
forester’s  hut.  If  you  attend  it  not,  I will.  They  will 
be  my  prisoners  as  well  as  you.  To  preserve  yourself  and 
save  them,  you  must  join  me.” 

“Before  I return  an  answer,”  said  Wyat,  “I  must 
know  what  has  become  of  Mabel  Lyndwood.” 

“ Mabel  Lyndwood  is  nought  to  you,  Sir  Thomas,”  re- 
joined Herne,  coldly. 

“ She  is  so  much  to  me  that  I will  run  a risk  for  her 
which  I would  not  run  for  myself,”  replied  Wyat.  “If 
I promise  obedience  to  you,  will  you  liberate  her — will 
you  let  her  depart  with  me  ? ” 

“ No,”  replied  Herne,  peremptorily.  “ Banish  all 
thoughts  of  her  from  your  breast.  You  will  never  behold 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


315 


her  again.  I will  give  you  time  for  reflection  on  my  pro- 
posal. An  hour  before  midnight  I shall  return,  and  if  I 
find  you  in  the  same  mind,  I abandon  you  to  your  fate.” 

And  with  these  words,  he  stepped  back  towards  the 
lower  end  of  the  cell.  Wyat  instantly  sprang  after  him, 
but  before  he  could  reach  him  a flash  of  fire  caused  him 
to  recoil,  and  to  his  horror  and  amazement,  he  beheld  the 
rock  open,  and  yield  a passage  to  the  retreating  figure. 

When  the  sulphureous  smoke,  with  which  the  little 
cell  was  filled,  had,  in  some  degree  cleared  off,  Wyat 
examined  the  sides  of  the  rock,  but  could  not  find  the 
slightest  trace  of  a secret  outlet,  and  therefore  concluded 
that  the  disappearance  of  the  demon  had  been  effected  by 
magic. 


316 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  Y. 

HOW  MABEL  ESCAPED  FROM  THE  CAVE  WITH  SIR  THOMAS 

WYAT. 

The  next  day  Mabel  was  set  at  liberty  by  her  jailer, 
and  the  hours  flew  by  without  the  opportunity  of  escape, 
for  which  she  sighed,  occurring  to  her.  As  night  drew 
on,  she  became  more  anxious,  and  at  last  expressed  a 
wish  to  retire  to  her  cell.  When  about  to  fasten  the 
door,  Fenwolf  found  that  the  lock  had  got  strained,  and 
the  bolts  would  not  move,  and  he  was  therefore  obliged 
to  content  himself  with  placing  a bench  against  it,  on 
which  he  took  a seat. 

About  an  hour  after  Mabel’s  retirement,  old  Tristram 
offered  to  relieve  guard  with  Fenwolf,  but  this  the  other 
positively  declined,  and  leaning  against  the  door,  dis- 
posed himself  to  slumber.  Tristram  then  threw  him- 
self on  the  floor,  and  in  a short  time  all  seemed  buried  in 
repose. 

By-and-by,  however,  when  Fenwolf  s heavy  breathing 
gave  token  of  the  soundness  of  his  sleep,  Tristram  raised 
himself  upon  his  elbow,  and  gazed  round.  The  lamp 
placed  upon  the  table  imperfectly  illumined  the  cavern, 
for  the  fire  which  had  been  lighted  to  cook  the  evening 
meal,  had  gone  out  completely.  Getting  up  cautiously, 
and  drawing  his  hunting-knife,  the  old  man  crept  to- 
wards Fenwolf,  apparently  with  the  intent  of  stabbing 
him,  but  he  suddenly  changed  his  resolution,  and  dropped 
his  arm. 

At  that  moment,  as  if  preternaturally  warned,  Fenwolf 
opened  his  eyes,  and  seeing  the  old  forester  standing  by, 
sprang  upon  him,  and  seized  him  by  the  throat. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  317 

“ Ah  ! traitor ! ” he  exclaimed,  “ what  are  you  about  to 
do?” 

“ I am  no  traitor,”  replied  the  old  man.  “ I heard  a 
noise  in  the  passage  leading  to  Wyat’s  cell,  and  was 
about  to  rouse  you,  when  you  awakened  of  your  own 
accord,  probably  disturbed  by  the  noise.” 

“ It  may  be,”  replied  Fen  wolf,  satisfied  with  the  excuse, 
and  relinquishing  his  grasp ; “ I fancied  I heard  some- 
thing in  my  dreams.  But  come  with  me  to  Wyat’s  cell. 
I will  not  leave  you  here.” 

And  snatching  up  the  lamp,  he  hurried  with  Tristram 
into  the  passage.  They  were  scarcely  gone,  than  the 
door  of  the  cell  was  opened  by  Mabel,  who  had  overheard 
what  had  passed : and  so  hurriedly  did  she  issue  forth 
that  she  overturned  the  bench,  which  fell  to  the  ground 
with  a considerable  clatter.  She  had  only  just  time  to 
replace  it,  and  to  conceal  herself  in  an  adjoining  passage, 
when  Fenwolf  rushed  back  into  the  cavern. 

“ It  was  a false  alarm,”  he  cried.  “I  saw  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat  in  his  cell  through  the  loophole,  and  I have  brought 
the  key  away  with  me.  But  I am  sure  I heard  a noise 
here.” 

“ It  must  have  been  mere  fancy,”  said  Tristram.  “ All 
is  as  we  left  it.” 

“ It  seems  so,  certes,”  replied  Fenwolf,  doubtfully. 
“ But  I will  make  sure.” 

While  he  placed  his  ear  to  the  door,  Mabel  gave  a sig- 
nal to  Tristram  that  she  was  safe.  Persuaded  that  he 
heard  some  sound  in  the  chamber,  Fenwolf  nodded  to 
Tristram  that  all  was  right,  and  resumed  his  seat. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes,  he  was  again  asleep.  Mabel 
then  emerged  from  her  concealment,  and  cautiously  ap- 
proached Tristram,  who  feigned,  also,  to  slumber.  As 
she  approached  him,  he  rose  noiselessly  to  his  feet. 

“ The  plan  has  succeeded,”  he  said,  in  a low  tone.  “ It 


318 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


was  I who  spoiled  the  lock.  But  come  with  me.  I will 
lead  you  out  of  the  cavern.” 

“Not  without  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,”  she  replied ; “I  will 
not  leave  him  here.” 

“ You  will  only  expose  yourself  to  risk,  and  fail  to  de- 
liver him,”  rejoined  Tristram.  “ Fen  wolf  has  the  key  of 
his  cell. — Nay,  if  you  are  determined  upon  it,  I will  not 
hinder  you.  But  you  must  find  your  own  way  out,  for  I 
shall  not  assist  Sir  Thomas  Wyat.” 

Motioning  him  to  silence,  Mabel  crept  slowly,  and  on 
the  points  of  her  feet,  towards  Fenwolf. 

The  key  was  in  his  girdle.  Leaning  over  him,  she  sud- 
denly and  dexterously  plucked  it  forth. 

At  the  very  moment  she  possessed  herself  of  it,  Fen- 
wolf stirred,  and  she  dived  down,  and  concealed  herself 
beneath  the  table.  Fenwolf,  who  had  been  only  slightly 
disturbed,  looked  up,  and  seeing  Tristram  in  his  former 
position,  which  he  had  resumed  when  Mabel  commenced 
her  task,  again  disposed  himself  to  slumber. 

Waiting  till  she  was  assured  of  the  soundness  of  his 
repose,  Mabel  crept  from  under  the  table,  signed  to  Tris- 
tram to  remain  where  he  was,  and  glided  with  swift 
and  noiseless  footsteps  down  the  passage  leading  to 
the  cell.  In  a moment,  she  was  at  the  door — the  key 
was  in  the  lock — and  she  stood  before  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat. 

A few  words  sufficed  to  explain  to  the  astonished  knight 
how  she  came  there,  and  comprehending  that  not  a mo- 
ment was  to  be  lost,  he  followed  her  forth. 

In  the  passage,  they  held  a brief  consultation  together, 
in  a low  tone,  as  to  the  best  means  of  escape,  for  they 
deemed  it  useless  to  apply  to  Tristram.  The  outlet  with 
which  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  was  acquainted  lay  on  the  other 
side  of  the  cavern  ; nor  did  he  know  how  to  discover  the 
particular  passage  leading  to  it.  As  to  Mabel,  she  could 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  319 

offer  no  information,  but  she  knew  that  the  stable  lay  in 
an  adjoining  passage. 

Recollecting,  from  former  experience,  how  well  the 
steeds  were  trained,  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  eagerly  caught  at 
the  suggestion,  and  Mabel  led  him  further  down  the  pas- 
sage, and  striking  off  through  an  opening  on  the  left, 
brought  him,  after  a few  turns,  to  a large  chamber,  in 
which  two  or  three  black  horses  were  kept. 

Loosening  one  of  them,  Wyat  placed  a bridle  on  his 
neck,  sprang  upon  his  back,  and  took  up  Mabel  beside 
him.  He  then  struck  his  heels  against  the  sides  of  the 
animal,  who  needed  no  further  incitement  to  dash  along 
the  passage,  and  in  a few  seconds  brought  them  into  the 
cavern. 

The  trampling  of  the  horse  wakened  Fenwolf,  who 
started  to  his  feet,  and  ran  after  them,  shouting  furiously. 
But  he  was  too  late.  Goaded  by  Wyat’s  dagger,  the 
steed  dashed  furiously  on,  and  plunging  with  its  double 
burthen  into  the  pool  at  the  bottom  of  the  cavern,  dis- 
appeared. 


320 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OF  THE  DESPERATE  RESOLUTION  FORMED  BY  TRISTRAM  AND 
FENWOLF  ; AND  HOW  THE  TRAIN  WAS  LAID. 

Transported  with  rage  at  the  escape  of  the  fugitives, 
Fenwolf  turned  to  old  Tristam,  and  drawing  his  knife 
threatened  to  make  an  end  of  him.  Rut  the  old  man, 
who  was  armed  with  a short  hunting-sword,  stood  upon 
his  defense,  and  they  remained  brandishing  their  weapons 
at  each  other  for  some  minutes,  but  without  striking  a 
blow. 

“Well,  I leave  you  to  Herne’s  vengeance,”  said  Fen- 
wolf, returning  his  knife  to  his  belt.  “You  will  pay 
dearly  for  allowing  them  to  escape.” 

“ I will  take  my  chance,”  replied  Tristram,  moodily — 
“ my  mind  is  made  up  to  the  worst.  I will  no  longer 
serve  this  fiend.” 

“ What ! dare  you  break  your  oath  ? ” cried  Fenwolf. 
“ Remember  the  terrible  consequences.” 

“I  care  not  for  them,”  replied  Tristram.  “Harkee, 
Fenwolf,  I know  you  will  not  betray  me,  for  you  hate 
him  as  much  as  I do,  and  have  as  great  a desire  for 
revenge.  I will  rid  the  forest  of  this  fell  being.” 

“Would  you  could  make  good  your  words,  old  man  ! ” 
cried  Fenwolf.  “I  would  give  my  life  for  vengeance 
upon  him.” 

“I  take  the  offer,”  said  Tristram — “you  shall  have 
vengeance.” 

“ But  how  ? ” cried  the  other.  “ I have  proved  that  he 
is  invulnerable — and  the  prints  of  his  hands  are  written 
in  black  characters  upon  my  throat.  If  we  could  capture 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  321 

him,  and  deliver  him  to  the  king,  we  might  purchase  our 
own  pardon.” 

44  No,  that  can  never  be,”  said  Tristram.  44  My  plan  is 
to  destroy  him.” 

44  Well,  let  me  hear  it,”  said  Fen  wolf. 

44  Come  with  me,  then,”  rejoined  Tristram. 

And  taking  up  the  lamp,  he  led  the  way  down  a narrow 
lateral  passage.  When  about  half  way  down  it,  he  stopped 
before  a low  door,  cased  with  iron,  which  he  opened,  and 
showed  that  the  recess  was  filled  with  large  canvas  bags. 

44  Why,  this  is  the  powder-magazine,”  said  Fenwolf.  44 1 
can  now  guess  how  you  mean  to  destroy  Herne.  I like 
the  scheme  well  enough ; but  it  cannot  be  executed  with- 
out certain  destruction  to  ourselves.” 

44 1 will  take  all  risk  upon  myself,”  said  Tristram — 44 1 
only  require  your  aid  in  the  preparations.  What  I pro- 
pose to  do  is  this.  There  is  powder  enough  in  the  maga- 
zine, not  only  to  blow  up  the  cave,  but  to  set  fire  to  all 
the  wood  surrounding  it.  It  must  be  scattered  among 
the  dry  brushwood  in  a great  circle  round  the  cave,  and 
connected  by  a train  with  this  magazine.  When  Herne 
comes  back,  I will  fire  the  train.” 

44  There  is  much  hazard  in  the  scheme,  and  I fear  it  will 
fail,”  replied  Fenwolf,  after  a pause — 44  nevertheless,  I will 
assist  you.” 

44  Then,  let  us  go  to  work  at  once,”  said  Tristram,  44  for 
we  have  no  time  to  lose.  Herne  will  be  here  before  mid- 
night, and  I should  like  to  have  all  ready  for  him.” 

Accordingly,  they  each  shouldered  a couple  of  the  bags, 
and  returning  to  the  cavern,  threaded  a narrow  passage, 
and  emerged  from  the  secret  entrance  in  the  grove. 

While  Fenwolf  descended  for  a fresh  supply  of  powder, 
Tristram  commenced  operations.  Though  autumn  was 
now  far  advanced,  there  had  been  remarkably  fine  weather 
of  late ; the  ground  was  thickly  strewn  with  yellow 


322 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


leaves ; the  fern  was  brown  and  dry ; and  the  brush- 
wood crackled  and  broke  as  a passage  was  forced  through 
it.  The  very  trees  were  parched  by  the  long-continued 
drought.  Thus  favored  in  his  design,  Tristram  scattered 
the  contents  of  one  of  the  bags  in  a thick  line  among  the 
fern  and  brushwood,  depositing  here  and  there,  among 
the  roots  of  a tree,  several  pounds  of  powder,  and  covering 
the  heaps  over  with  dried  sticks  and  leaves. 

While  he  was  thus  employed,  Fenwolf  appeared  with 
two  more  bags  of  powder,  and  descended  again  for  a fresh 
supply.  When  he  returned,  laden  as  before,  the  old 
forester  had  already  described  a large  portion  of  the  circle 
he  intended  to  take. 

Judging  that  there  was  now  powder  sufficient,  Tristram 
explained  to  his  companion  how  to  proceed ; and  the  other 
commenced  laying  a train  on  the  left  of  the  secret  entrance, 
carefully  observing  the  instructions  given  him. 

In  less  than  an  hour,  they  met  together  at  a particular 
tree,  and  the  formidable  circle  was  complete. 

“ So  far,  well ! ” said  Tristram,  emptying  the  contents 
of  his  bag  beneath  the  tree,  and  covering  it  with  leaves 
and  sticks,  as  before ; “ and  now  to  connect  this  with  the 
cavern.” 

With  this,  he  opened  another  bag,  and  drew  a wide 
train  towards  the  center  of  the  space.  At  length,  he 
paused  at  the  foot  of  a large  hollow  tree. 

“ I have  ascertained,”  he  said,  “ that  this  tree  stands 
immediately  over  the  magazine;  and  by  following  this 
rabbit’s  burrow,  I have  contrived  to  make  a small  entrance 
into  it.  A hollow  reed  introduced  through  the  hole,  and 
filled  with  powder,  will  be  sure  to  reach  the  store  below. 

“ An  excellent  idea  ! ” replied  Fenwolf.  “ I will  fetch 
one  instantly.” 

And  starting  off  to  the  side  of  the  lake,  he  presently  re- 
turned with  several  long  reeds,  one  of  which  was  selected 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


323 


by  Tristram,  and  thrust  into  the  burrow.  It  proved  of 
the  precise  length  required ; and  as  soon  as  it  touched  the 
bottom,  it  was  carefully  filled  with  powder  from  a horn. 
Having  connected  this  tube  with  the  side  train,  and 
scattered  powder  for  several  yards  around,  so  as  to  secure 
its  instantaneous  ignition,  Tristram  pronounced  that  the 
train  was  complete. 

w We  have  now  laid  a trap  from  which  Herne  will 
scarcely  escape,”  he  observed,  with  a moody  laugh,  to 
Fenwolf. 

They  then  prepared  to  return  to  the  cave ; but  had  not 
proceeded  many  yards,  when  Herne,  mounted  on  his  sable 
steed,  burst  through  the  trees. 

“ Ah ! what  makes  you  here  ? ” he  cried,  instantly 
checking  his  career.  “ I bade  you  keep  strict  watch  over 
Mabel.  Where  is  she  ? ” 

“ She  has  escaped  with  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,”  replied 
Fenwolf ; “ and  we  have  been  in  search  of  them ” 

“ Escaped  ! ” exclaimed  Herne,  springing  from  his  steed, 
and  rushing  up  to  him;  “dogs!  you  have  played  me 
false.  But  your  lives  shall  pay  the  penalty  of  your 
perfidy.” 

“We  had  no  hand  in  it  whatever,”  replied  Fenwolf, 
doggedly.  “ She  contrived  to  get  out  of  a chamber  in 
which  I placed  her,  and  to  liberate  Sir  Thomas  Wyat. 
They  then  procured  a steed  from  the  stable,  and  plunged 
through  the  pool  into  the  lake.” 

“ Hell’s  malison  upon  them,  and  upon  you  both ! ” cried 
Herne.  “ But  you  shall  pay  dearly  for  your  heedlessness, 
— if,  indeed,  it  has  not  been  something  worse.  How  long 
have  they  been  gone  ? ” 

“ It  may  be  two  hours,”  replied  Fenwolf. 

“ Go  to  the  cave,”  cried  Herne,  “ and  await  my  return 
there;  and  if  I recover  not  the  prize,  woe  betide  you 
both ! ” 


324 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


And  with  these  words,  he  vaulted  upon  his  steed  and 

disappeared. 

“ And  woe  betide  you  too,  false  fiend  ! ” cried  Fenwolf. 
“ When  you  come  back  you  shall  meet  with  a welcome 
you  little  expect.  W ould  we  had  fired  the  train,  Tristram, 
even  though  we  had  perished  with  him ! ” 

“ It  will  be  time  enough  to  fire  it  on  his  return,”  re- 
plied the  old  forester ; “ it  is  but  postponing  our  vengeance 
for  a short  time.  And  now  to  fix  our  positions.  I will 
take  my  station  in  yon  brake.” 

“ And  I in  that  hollow  tree,”  said  Fenwolf.  “ Whoever 
first  beholds  him  shall  fire  the  train.” 

“ Agreed  ! ” replied  Tristram.  “ Let  us  now  descend  to 
the  cave,  and  see  that  all  is  right  in  the  magazine,  and 
then  we  will  return  and  hold  ourselves  in  readiness  for 
action.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


325 


CHAPTER  VII. 

i 

HOW  THE  TRAIN  WAS  FIRED  ; AND  WHAT  FOLLOWED  THE 

EXPLOSION. 

About  ten  o’clock  in  the  night  under  consideration, 
Surrey  and  Richmond,  accompanied  by  the  Duke  of 
Shoreditch,  and  half  a dozen  other  archers,  set  out  from 
the  castle,  and  took  their  way  along  the  Great  Park,  in 
the  direction  of  the  lake. 

They  had  not  ridden  far,  when  they  were  overtaken  by 
two  horsemen  who,  as  far  as  they  could  be  discerned  in 
that  doubtful  light,  appeared  stalwart  personages,  and 
well  mounted,  though  plainly  attired.  The  newcomers 
very  unceremoniously  joined  them. 

“ There  are  ill  reports  of  the  park,  my  masters,”  said 
the  foremost  of  these  persons  to  Surrey,  “ and  we  would 
willingly  ride  with  you  across  it.” 

“ But  our  way  may  not  be  yours,  friend,”  replied 
Surrey,  who  did  not  altogether  relish  this  proposal.  “ We 
are  not  going  further  than  the  lake.” 

“ Our  road  lies  in  that  direction,”  replied  the  other, 
44  and,  if  you  please,  we  will  bear  you  company  as  far  as 
we  go.  Come,  tell  me  frankly,”  he  added,  after  a pause, 
“ are  you  not  in  search  of  Herne  the  Hunter  ? ” 

44  Why  do  you  ask,  friend  ? ” rejoined  the  earl,  some- 
what angrily. 

44  Because  if  so,”  replied  the  other,  44 1 shall  be  right 
glad  to  join  you,  and  so  will  my  friend,  Tony  Cry  spy  n, 
who  is  close  behind  me.  I have  an  old  grudge  to  settle 
with  this  Herne,  who  has  more  than  once  attacked  me, 
and  I shall  be  glad  to  pay  it.” 

44  If  you  will  take  my  advice,  Hugh  Dacre,  you  will  ride 


326 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


on,  and  leave  the  achievement  of  the  adventure  to  these 
young  galliards,”  interposed  Cryspyn. 

“ Nay,  by  the  mass ! that  shall  never  be,”  rejoined 
Dacre,  “ if  they  have  no  objection  to  our  joining  them. 
If  they  have,  they  have  only  to  say  so,  and  we  will  go 
on.” 

“ I will  be  plain  with  you,  my  masters,”  said  Surrey. 
«We  are  determined  this  night,  as  you  have  rightly  con- 
jectured, to  seek  out  Herne  the  Hunter  ; and  we  hope  to 
obtain  such  clue  to  him  as  will  insure  his  capture.  If, 
therefore,  you  are  anxious  to  join  us,  we  shall  be  glad  of 
your  aid.  But  you  must  be  content  to  follow,  and  not 
lead ; and  to  act  as  you  may  be  directed ; or  you  will 
only  be  in  the  way,  and  we  would  rather  dispense  with 
your  company.” 

“ We  are  content  with  the  terms, — are  we  not,  Tony  ? ” 
said  Dacre. 

His  companion  answered  somewhat  sullenly  in  the 
affirmative. 

44  And  now  that  the  matter  is  arranged,  may  I ask 
where  you  propose  to  go  ? ” he  continued. 

“ We  are  on  our  way  to  a hut  on  the  lake,  where  we 
expect  a companion  to  join  us,”  replied  Surrey. 

64  What ! Tristram  Lyndwood’s  cottage  ? ” demanded 
Dacre. 

44  Ay,”  replied  the  earl,  44  and  we  hope  to  recover  his 
fair  granddaughter  from  the  power  of  the  demon.” 

44  Ha ! say  you  so  ? ” cried  Dacre ; 44  that  were  a feat 
indeed ! ” 

The  two  strangers  then  rode  apart  for  a few  moments, 
and  conversed  together  in  a low  tone,  during  which 
Richmond  expressed  his  doubts  of  them  to  Surrey, 
adding  that  he  was  determined  to  get  rid  of  them. 

The  newcomers,  however,  were  not  easily  shaken  off. 
As  soon  as  they  perceived  the  duke’s  design,  they  stuck 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  327 

more  pertinaciously  to  him  and  the  earl  than  before,  and 
made  it  evident  they  would  not  be  dismissed. 

By  this  time,  they  had  passed  Spring  Hill,  and  were 
within  a mile  of  the  valley  in  which  lay  the  marsh,  when 
a cry  for  help  was  heard  in  the  thicket  on  the  left,  and 
the  troop  immediately  halted.  The  cry  was  repeated, 
and  Surrey,  bidding  the  others  follow  him,  dashed  off  in 
the  direction  of  the  sound. 

Presently,  they  perceived  two  figures  beneath  the  trees, 
whom  they  found,  on  a nearer  approach,  were  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat,  with  Mabel  in  a state  of  insensibility  in  his  arms. 

Dismounting  by  the  side  of  his  friend,  Surrey  hastily 
demanded  how  he  came  there,  and  what  had  happened  ? 

44  It  is  too  long  a story  to  relate  now,”  said  Wyat; 
44  but  the  sum  of  it  is,  that  I have  escaped  by  the  aid  of 
this  damsel,  from  the  clutches  of  the  demon.  Our  escape 
was  effected  on  horseback,  and  we  had  to  plunge  into  the 
lake.  The  immersion  deprived  my  fair  preserver  of  sen- 
sibility, so  that  as  soon  as  I landed,  and  gained  a covert 
where  I fancied  myself  secure,  I dismounted,  and  tried  to 
restore  her.  While  I was  thus  occupied,  the  steed  I had 
brought  with  me  broke  his  bridle  and  darted  off  into  the 
woods.  After  awhile,  Mabel  opened  her  eyes,  but  she 
was  so  weak  that  she  could  not  move,  and  I was  fain  to 
make  her  a couch  in  the  fern,  in  the  hope  that  she  would 
speedily  revive.  But  the  fright  and  suffering  had  been 
too  much  for  her,  and  a succession  of  fainting  fits  followed, 
during  which  I thought  she  would  expire.  This  is  all. 
Now  let  us  prepare  a litter  for  her,  and  convey  her  where 
proper  assistance  can  be  rendered.” 

Meanwhile  the  others  had  come  up,  and  Hugh  Dacre, 
flinging  himself  from  his  horse,  and  pushing  Surrey  some- 
what rudely  aside,  advanced  towards  Mabel,  and  taking 
her  hand,  said,  in  a voice  of  some  emotion, — 44  Alas ! poor 
girl ! I did  not  expect  to  meet  thee  again  in  this  state.” 


328 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ You  knew  her,  then? ” said  Surrey. 

Dacre  muttered  an  affirmative. 

“ Who  is  this  man?”  asked  Wyat  of  the  earl. 

“ I know  him  not,”  answered  Surrey.  “He  joined  us 
on  the  road  hither.” 

“ I am  well  known  to  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,”  replied  Dacre, 
in  a significant  tone,  “ as  he  will  avouch  when  I recall 
certain  matters  to  his  mind.  But  do  not  let  us  lose  time 
v here.  This  damsel  claims  our  first  attention.  She  must 
be  conveyed  to  a place  of  safety,  and  where  she  can 
be  well  tended.  We  can  then  return  to  search  for 
Herne.” 

Upon  this,  a litter  of  branches  was  speedily  made,  and 
Mabel  being  laid  upon  it,  the  simple  conveyance  was 
sustained  by  four  of  the  archers.  The  little  cavalcade 
then  quitted  the  thicket,  and  began  to  retrace  its  course 
towards  the  castle.  Wyat  had  been  accommodated  with 
a horse  by  one  of  the  archers,  and  rode  in  a melancholy 
manner  by  the  side  of  the  litter. 

They  had  got  back  nearly  as  far  as  the  brow  of  Spring 
Hill  when  a horseman,  in  a wild  garb,  and  mounted  on  a 
coal-black  steed,  dashed  suddenly  and  at  a furious  pace, 
out  of  the  trees  on  the  right.  He  made  towards  the 
litter,  overturning  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  and  before  any  op- 
position could  be  offered  him,  seized  the  inanimate  form 
of  Mabel,  and  placing  her  before  him  on  his  steed  dashed 
off  as  swiftly  as  he  came,  and  with  a burst  of  loud  exult- 
ing laughter. 

“ It  is  Herne  ! it  is  Herne ! ” burst  from  every  lip.  And 
they  all  started  in  pursuit,  urging  the  horses  to  their 
utmost  speed.  Sir  Thomas  W yat  had  instantly  remounted 
his  steed,  and  he  came  up  with  the  others. 

Herne’s  triumphant  and  demoniacal  laugh  was  heard  as 
he  scoured  with  the  swiftness  of  the  wind  down  the  long 
glade.  But  the  fiercest  determination  animated  his  pur- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  329 

suers,  who  being  all  admirably  mounted,  managed  to  keep 
him  fully  in  view. 

Away  ! away  ! he  speeded  in  the  direction  of  the  lake  ; 
and  after  him  they  thundered,  straining  every  sinew  in 
the  desperate  chase.  It  was  a wild  and  extraordinary 
sight,  and  partook  of  the  fantastical  character  of  a dream. 

At  length,  Herne  reached  the  acclivity,  at  the  foot  of 
which  lay  the  waters  of  the  lake  glimmering  in  the  star- 
light, and  by  the  time  he  had  descended  to  its  foot, 
his  pursuers  had  gained  its  brow. 

The  exertions  made  by  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  had  brought 
him  a little  in  advance  of  the  others.  Furiously  goading 
his  horse,  he  dashed  down  the  hillside,  at  a terrific 
pace. 

All  at  once,  as  he  kept  his  eye  on  the  flying  figure  of 
the  demon,  he  was  startled  by  a sudden  burst  of  flame  in 
the  valley.  A wide  circle  of  light  was  rapidly  described, 
a rumbling  sound  was  heard  like  that  preceding  an  earth- 
quake, and  a tremendous  explosion  followed,  hurling  trees 
and  fragments  of  rock  into  the  air. 

Astounded  at  the  extraordinary  occurrence,  and  not 
knowing  what  might  ensue,  the  pursuers  reined  in  their 
steeds.  But  the  terror  of  the  scene  was  not  yet  over. 
The  whole  of  the  brushwood  had  caught  fire  and  blazed 
up  with  the  fury  and  swiftness  of  lighted  flax.  The  flames 
caught  the  parched  branches  of  the  trees,  and  in  a few 
seconds  the  whole  grove  was  on  fire. 

The  sight  was  awfully  grand,  for  the  wind,  which  was 
blowing  strongly,  swept  the  flames  forward,  so  that  they 
devoured  all  before  them. 

When  the  first  flash  was  seen,  the  demon  had  checked 
his  steed,  and  backed  him,  so  that  he  had  escaped  without 
injury,  and  he  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  flaming  circle 
watching  the  progress  of  the  devastating  element,  but  at 
last,  finding  that  his  pursuers  had  taken  heart,  and  were 


330 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


approaching  him,  he  bestirred  himself,  and  rode  round 
the  blazing  zone. 

Having  by  this  time  recovered  from  their  surprise, 
Wyat  and  Surrey  dashed  after  him,  and  got  so  near  him 
that  they  made  sure  of  his  capture.  But  at  the  very 
moment  they  expected  to  reach  him,  he  turned  his 
horse’s  head,  and  forced  him  to  leap  over  the  blazing 
boundary. 

In  vain  the  pursuers  attempted  to  follow.  Their  horses 
refused  to  encounter  the  flames  ; while  Wyat’s  steed  urged 
on  by  its  frantic  master,  reared  bolt  upright,  and  dis- 
lodged him. 

But  the  demon  held  on  his  way,  apparently  unscathed, 
in  the  midst  of  the  flames,  casting  a look  of  grim  defiance 
at  his  pursuers.  As  he  passed  a tree,  from  which  volumes 
of  fire  were  bursting,  the  most  appalling  shrieks  reached 
his  ear,  and  he  beheld  Morgan  Fenwolf  emerging  from  a 
hole  in  the  trunk.  But  without  bestowing  more  than  a 
glance  upon  his  unfortunate  follower,  he  dashed  forward, 
and  becoming  involved  in  the  wreaths  of  flame  and  smoke, 
was  lost  to  sight. 

Attracted  by  Fenwolf’s  cries,  the  beholders  perceived 
him  crawl  out  of  the  hole,  and  clamber  into  the  upper 
part  of  the  tree,  where  he  roared  to  them  most  piteously 
for  aid.  But  even  if  they  had  been  disposed  to  render  it, 
it  was  impossible  to  do  so  now,  and  after  terrible  and  pro- 
tracted suffering,  the  poor  wretch,  half  stifled  with  smoke, 
and  unable  longer  to  maintain  his  hold  of  the  branch  to 
which  he  had  crept,  fell  into  the  flames  beneath,  and 
perished. 

Attributing  its  outbreak  to  supernatural  agency,  the 
party  gazed  on  in  wonder  at  the  fire,  and  rode  round  it, 
as  closely  as  their  steeds  would  allow  them.  But  though 
they  tarried  till  the  flames  had  abated,  and  little  was  left 
of  the  noble  grove  but  a collection  of  charred  and  smok- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


331 


ing  stumps,  nothing  was  seen  of  the  fiend  or  of  the  hap- 
less girl  he  had  carried  off.  It  served  to  confirm  the 
notion  of  the  supernatural  origin  of  the  fire,  in  that  it 
was  confined  within  the  mystic  circle,  and  did  not  extend 
further  into  the  woods. 

At  the  time  that  the  flames  first  hurst  forth,  and 
revealed  the  countenances  of  the  lookers  on,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  self-styled  Dacre  and  Cryspyn  were  no 
other  than  the  king  and  the  Duke  of  Suffolk. 

“ If  this  mysterious  being  is  mortal,  he  must  have  per- 
ished now,”  observed  Henry ; “ and  if  he  is  not,  it  is  use- 
less to  seek  for  him  further.” 

Day  had  begun  to  break  as  the  party  quitted  the  scene 
of  devastation.  The  king  and  Suffolk  with  the  archers 
returned  to  the  castle,  but  Wyat,  Surrey,  and  Richmond, 
rode  towards  the  lake,  and  proceeded  along  its  banks  in 
the  direction  of  the  forester’s  hut. 

Their  progress  was  suddenly  arrested  by  the  sound  of 
lamentation,  and  they  perceived,  in  a little  bay,  overhung 
by  trees,  which  screened  it  from  the  path,  an  old  man 
kneeling  beside  the  body  of  a female,  which  he  had  partly 
dragged  out  of  the  lake.  It  was  Tristram  Lyndwood,  and 
the  body  was  that  of  Mabel.  Her  tresses  were  disheveled, 
and  dripping  with  wet,  as  were  her  garments  ; and  her 
features  white  as  marble.  The  old  man  was  weeping 
bitterly. 

With  Wyat  to  dismount,  and  grasp  the  cold  hand  of 
the  hapless  maiden,  was  the  work  of  a moment. 

“ She  is  dead ! ” he  cried,  in  a despairing  voice,  remov- 
ing the  dark  tresses  from  her  brow,  and  imprinting 
a reverent  kiss  upon  it.  “ Dead  ! — lost  to  me  for- 
ever ! ” 

“ I found  her  entangled  among  those  water- weeds,” 
said  Tristram,  in  tones  broken  by  emotion,  “ and  had  just 
dragged  her  to  shore  when  you  came  up.  As  you  hope 


332 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


to  prosper,  now  and  hereafter,  give  her  a decent  burial. 
For  me  all  is  over.” 

And,  with  a lamentable  cry,  he  plunged  into  the  lake, 
struck  out  to  a short  distance,  and  then  sank  to  rise  no 
more. 


Gbus  enbe  tbe  jfourtb  JBooft  of  tbe  Chronicle  of 
Win&sor  Castle. 


ffiook  the  jm 


JANE  SEYMOUK. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


335 


CHAPTER  I. 

OF  henry’s  ATTACHMENT  TO  JANE  SEYMOUR. 

On  the  anniversary  of  Saint  George,  1536,  and  exactly 
seven  years  from  the  opening  of  this  chronicle,  Henry 
assembled  the  knights  companions  within  Windsor  Cas- 
tle to  hold  the  grand  feast  of  the  most  noble  Order  of  the 
Garter. 

Many  important  events  had  occurred  in  the  wide  inter- 
val thus  suffered  to  elapse.  Wolsey  had  long  since  sunk 
under  his  reverses — for  he  never  regained  the  royal  favor 
after  his  dismissal — and  had  expired  at  Leicester  Abbey, 
on  26th  November,  1530. 

But  the  sufferings  of  Catherine  of  Aragon  were  pro- 
longed up  to  the  commencement  of  the  year  under  con- 
sideration. After  the  divorce,  and  the  elevation  of  Anne 
Boleyn  to  the  throne  in  her  stead,  she  withdrew  to  Kim- 
bolton  Castle,  where  she  dwelt  in  the  greatest  retirement, 
under  the  style  of  the  princess  dowager.  Finding  her 
end  approaching,  she  sent  a humble  message  to  the  king, 
imploring  him  to  allow  her  one  last  interview  with  her 
daughter,  that  she  might  bestow  her  blessing  upon  her ; 
but  the  request  was  refused. 

A touching  letter,  however,  which  she  wrote  to  the 
king  on  her  death-bed  moved  him  to  tears ; and  having 
ejaculated  a few  expressions  of  his  sense  of  her  many 
noble  qualities,  he  retired  to  his  closet  to  indulge  his 
grief  in  secret.  Solemn  obsequies  were  ordered  to  be 
performed  at  Windsor  and  Greenwich  on  the  day  of  her 
interment,  and  the  king  and  the  whole  of  his  retinue  put 
on  mourning  for  her. 


336 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


With  this  arrangement  Anne  Boleyn  cared  not  to  com- 
ply. Though  she  had  attained  the  summit  of  her  am- 
bition, though  the  divorce  had  been  pronounced,  and  she 
was  crowned  queen ; though  she  had  given  birth  to  a 
daughter — the  Princess  Elizabeth,  afterwards  the  illus- 
trious queen  of  that  name, — two  years  before  ; and  though 
she  could  have  no  reasonable  apprehensions  from  her,  the 
injured  Catherine,  during  her  lifetime,  had  always  been 
an  object  of  dread  to  her.  She  heard  of  her  death  with 
undisguised  satisfaction,  clapped  her  hands,  exclaiming 
to  her  attendants,  “Now,  I am  indeed  queen!”  and  put 
the  crowning  point  to  her  unfeeling  conduct,  by  decorating 
herself  and  her  dames  in  the  gayest  apparel  on  the  day  of 
the  funeral. 

Alas!  she  little  knew  that  at  that  very  moment  the 
work  of  retribution  commenced,  and  that  the  wrongs  of 
the  injured  queen,  whose  memory  she  thus  outraged, 
were  soon  to  be  terribly  and  bloodily  avenged. 

Other  changes  had  likewise  taken  place,  which  may  be 
here  recorded.  The  Earl  of  Surrey  had  made  the  tour  of 
France,  Italy,  and  the  Empire,  and  had  fully  kept  his 
word,  by  proclaiming  the  supremacy  of  the  fair  Geral- 
dine’s beauty  at  all  tilts  and  tournaments,  at  which  he 
constantly  bore  away  the  prize.  But  the  greatest  reward, 
and  that  which  he  hoped  would  crown  his  fidelity — the 
hand  of  his  mistress, — was  not  reserved  for  him. 

At  the  expiration  of  three  years,  he  returned  home, 
polished  by  travel,  and  accounted  one  of  the  bravest  and 
most  accomplished  cavaliers  of  the  day.  His  reputation 
had  preceded  him,  and  he  was  received  with  marks 
of  the  highest  distinction  and  favor  by  Henry,  as  well  as 
by  Anne  Boleyn.  But  the  king  was  still  averse  to  the 
match,  and  forbade  the  fair  Geraldine  to  return  to  court. 

Finding  so  much  opposition  on  all  sides,  the  earl  was 
at  last  brought  to  assent  to  the  wish  of  the  fair  Geral- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


337 


dine,  tha/b  their  engagement  should  be  broken  off.  In  her 
letters,  she  assured  him  that  her  love  had  undergone  no 
abatement — and  never  would  do  so — but  that  she  felt 
they  must  give  up  all  idea  of  an  union. 

These  letters,  probably  the  result  of  some  maneuver- 
ing on  his  own  part,  set  on  foot  by  the  royal  mandate, 
were  warmly  seconded  by  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  and,  after 
many  and  long  solicitations,  he  succeeded  in  wringing 
from  his  son  a reluctant  acquiescence  to  the  arrange- 
ment. 

The  disappointment  produced  its  natural  consequences 
on  the  ardent  temperament  of  the  young  earl,  and  com- 
pletely chilled  and  blighted  his  feelings.  He  became 
moody  and  discontented ; took  little  share  in  the  amuse- 
ments and  pastimes  going  forward;  and  from  being 
the  blithest  cavalier  at  court  became  the  saddest.  The 
change  in  his  demeanor  did  not  escape  the  notice  of 
Anne  Boleyn,  who  easily  divined  the  cause,  and  she 
essayed  by  raillery  and  other  arts  to  wean  him  from  his 
grief.  But  all  was  for  some  time  of  no  avail.  The  earl 
continued  inconsolable.  At  last,  however,  by  the  in- 
strumentality of  the  queen  and  his  father,  he  was  con- 
tracted to  the  Lady  Frances  Yere,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of 
Oxford,  and  was  married  to  her  in  1535. 

Long  before  this,  the  Duke  of  Richmond  had  been 
wedded  to  the  Lady  Mary  Howard. 

For  some  time,  previous  to  the  present  era  of  this 
chronicle,  Anne  Boleyn  had  observed  a growing  coolness 
towards  her  on  the  part  of  the  king,  and  latterly  it  had 
become  evident  that  his  passion  for  her  was  fast  sub- 
siding, if  indeed,  it  had  not  altogether  expired. 

Though  Anne  had  never  truly  loved  her  royal  consort, 
and  though  at  that  very  time  she  was  secretly  encour- 
aging the  regards  of  another,  she  felt  troubled  by  this 
change,  and  watched  all  the  king’s  movements  with 


338 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


jealous  anxiety  to  ascertain  if  any  one  had  supplanted 
her  in  his  affections. 

At  length,  her  vigilance  was  rewarded  by  discovering 
a rival  in  one  of  the  loveliest  of  her  dames,  Jane  Sey- 
mour. This  fair  creature,  the  daughter  of  Sir  John 
Seymour,  of  Wolff  Hall,  in  Wiltshire,  and  who  was  after- 
wards, it  is  almost  needless  to  say,  raised  to  as  high  a 
dignity  as  Anne  Boleyn  herself,  was  now  in  the  very 
pride  of  her  beauty.  Tall,  exquisitely  proportioned,  with 
a complexion  of  the  utmost  brilliancy  and  delicacy,  large 
liquid  blue  eyes,  bright  chestnut  tresses,  and  lovely 
features,  she  possessed  charms  that  could  not  fail  to  cap- 
tivate the  amorous  monarch.  It  seems  marvelous  that 
Anne  Boleyn  should  have  such  an  attendant ; but  per- 
haps she  felt  confident  in  her  own  attractions. 

Skilled  in  intrigue  herself,  Anne,  now  that  her  eyes 
were  opened,  perceived  all  the  allurements  thrown  out  by 
Jane  to  ensnare  the  king,  and  she  intercepted  many  a 
furtive  glance  between  them.  Still  she  did  not  dare  to 
interfere.  The  fierceness  of  Henry’s  temper  kept  her  in 
awe,  and  she  well  knew  that  the  slightest  opposition 
would  only  make  him  the  more  determined  to  run  coun- 
ter to  her  will.  Trusting,  therefore,  to  get  rid  of  Jane 
Seymour  by  some  stratagem,  she  resolved  not  to  attempt 
to  dismiss  her  except  as  a last  resource. 

A slight  incident  occurred,  which  occasioned  a depar- 
ture from  the  prudent  course  she  had  laid  down  to  her- 
self. 

Accompanied  by  her  dames,  she  was  traversing  the 
great  gallery  of  the  palace  at  Greenwich,  when  she  caught 
the  reflection  of  Jane  Seymour,  who  was  following  her, 
in  a mirror,  regarding  a jeweled  miniature.  She  in- 
stantly turned  round  at  the  sight,  and  Jane,  in  great  con- 
fusion, thrust  the  picture  into  her  bosom. 

“ Ah  ! what  have  you  there  ? ” cried  Anne. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  339 

“ A picture  of  my  father,  Sir  John  Seymour,”  replied 
Jane,  blushing  deeply. 

“ Let  me  look  at  it  ? ” cried  Anne,  snatching  the  picture 
from  her.  “ Ah!  call  you  this  your  father?  To  my 
thinking  it  is  much  more  like  my  royal  husband.  Answer 
me  frankly,  minion — answer  me,  as  you  value  your  life ! 
Did  the  king  give  you  this  ? ” 

“ I must  decline  answering  the  question,”  replied  Jane, 
who  by  this  time  had  recovered  her  composure. 

“ Ah ! am  I to  be  thus  insolently  treated  by  one  of  my 
own  dames  ! ” cried  Anne. 

“ I intend  no  disrespect  to  your  majesty,”  replied  Jane ; 
“ and  I will,  since  you  insist  upon  it,  freely  confess  that  I 
received  the  portrait  from  the  king.  I did  not  conceive 
there  could  be  any  harm  in  doing  so,  because  I saw  your 
majesty  present  your  own  portrait,  the  other  day,  to  Sir 
Henry  Norris.” 

Anne  Boleyn  turned  as  pale  as  death,  and  Jane  Sey- 
mour perceived  that  she  had  her  in  her  power. 

“ I gave  the  portrait  to  Sir  Henry  as  a recompense  for 
an  important  service  he  rendered  me,”  said  Anne,  after  a 
slight  pause. 

“No  doubt,”  replied  Jane;  “and I marvel  not  that  he 
should  press  it  so  fervently  to  his  lips,  seeing  he  must 
value  the  gift  highly.  The  king  likewise  bestowed  his 
portrait  upon  me  for  rendering  him  a service.” 

“ And  what  was  that  ? ” asked  Anne. 

“Nay,  there  your  majesty  must  hold  me  excused,” 
replied  the  other.  “It  were  to  betray  his  highness’s 
confidence  to  declare  it.  I must  refer  you  to  him  for  an 
explanation.” 

“Well,  you  are  in  the  right  to  keep  the  secret,”  said 
Anne,  forcing  a laugh ; “ I dare  say  there  is  no  harm  in 
the  portrait — indeed,  I am  sure  there  is  not,  if  it  was 
given  with  the  same  intent  that  mine  was  bestowed  upon 


340 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Norris.  And  so  we  will  say  no  more  upon  the  matter — 
except  that  I must  beg  you  to  be  discreet  with  the  king. 
If  others  should  comment  upon  your  conduct,  I may  be 
compelled  to  dismiss  you.” 

46  Your  majesty  shall  be  obeyed,”  said  Jane,  with  a 
look  that  intimated  that  the  request  had  but  slight 
weight  with  her. 

46  Catherine  will  be  avenged  by  means  of  this  woman,” 
muttered  Anne,  as  she  turned  away.  44 1 already  feel 
some  of  the  torments  with  which  she  threatened  me. 
And  she  suspects  Norris.  I must  impress  more  caution 
on  him.  Ah  ! when  a man  loves  deeply,  as  he  loves  me, 
due  restraint  is  seldom  maintained.” 

But  though  alarmed,  Anne  was  by  no  means  aware  of 
the  critical  position  in  which  she  stood.  She  could  not 
persuade  herself  that  she  had  entirely  lost  her  influence 
with  the  king ; and  she  thought  that  when  his  momen- 
tary passion  had  subsided,  it  would  return  to  its  old 
channels. 

She  was  mistaken.  Jane  Seymour  was  absolute  mis- 
tress of  his  heart ; and  Anne  was  now  as  great  a bar  to 
him,  as  she  had  before  been  an  attraction.  Had  her  con- 
duct been  irreproachable,  it  might  have  been  difficult  to 
remove  her ; but,  unfortunately,  she  had  placed  herself 
at  his  mercy,  by  yielding  to  the  impulses  of  vanity,  and 
secretly  encouraging  the  passion  of  Sir  Henry  Norris, 
groom  of  the  stole. 

This  favored  personage  was  somewhat  above  the 
middle  size,  squarely  and  strongly  built.  His  features 
were  regularly  and  finely  formed,  and  he  had  a ruddy 
complexion,  brown,  curling  hair,  good  teeth,  and  fine  eyes 
of  a clear  blue.  He  possessed  great  personal  strength ; 
was  expert  in  all  manly  exercises,  and  shone  especially  at 
the  jousts  and  the  manage.  He  was  of  an  ardent  tem- 
perament, and  Anne  Boleyn  had  inspired  him  with  sq 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  341 

desperate  a passion,  that  he  set  at  nought  the  fearful  risk 
he  ran  to  obtain  her  favor. 

In  all  this  seemed  traceable  the  hand  of  fate, — in 
Henry’s  passion  for  Jane  Seymour,  and  Anne’s  insane  re- 
gard for  Norris, — as  if  in  this  way,  and  by  the  same  means 
in  which  she  herself  had  been  wronged,  the  injured 
Catherine  of  Aragon  was  to  be  avenged. 

How  far  Henry’s  suspicions  of  his  consort’s  regard  for 
Norris  had  been  roused,  did  not  at  the  time  appear. 
Whatever  he  felt  in  secret,  he  took  care  that  no  outward 
manifestation  should  betray  him.  On  the  contrary,  he 
loaded  Norris,  who  had  always  been  a favorite  with  him, 
with  new  marks  of  regard,  and  encouraged  rather  than 
interdicted  his  approach  to  the  queen. 

Things  were  in  this  state  when  the  court  proceeded  to 
Windsor,  as  before  related,  on  Saint  George’s  day. 


342 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HOW  ANNE  BOLEYN  RECEIVED  PROOF  OF  HENRY’S  PASSION 
FOR  JANE  SEYMOUR. 

On  the  day  after  the  solemnization  of  the  Grand  Feast 
of  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  a masqued  fete  of  great  splen- 
dor and  magnificence  was  held  within  the  castle.  The 
whole  of  the  state  apartments  were  thrown  open  to  the 
distinguished  guests,  and  universal  gaiety  prevailed.  No 
restraint  was  offered  to  the  festivity  by  the  king,  for 
though  he  was  known  to  be  present,  he  did  not  choose  to 
declare  himself. 

The  queen  sat  apart,  on  a fauteuil  in  the  deep  embra- 
sure of  a window, — and  as  various  companies  of  fantastic 
characters  advanced  towards  her,  she  more  than  once 
fancied  she  detected  amongst  them  the  king,  but  the 
voices  convinced  her  of  her  mistake.  As  the  evening 
was  wearing,  a mask  in  a blue  domino  drew  near  her, 
and  whispered,  in  a devoted  and  familiar  tone, — “My 
queen ! ” 

“ Is  it  you,  Norris  ? ” demanded  Anne,  under  her  breath. 

“ It  is,”  he  replied.  “ Oh,  madam  ! I have  been  gazing 
at  you  the  whole  evening,  but  have  not  dared  approach 
you  till  now.” 

“ I am  sorry  you  have  addressed  me  at  all,  Norris,”  she 
rejoined.  “ Your  regard  for  me  has  been  noticed  by  others, 
and  may  reach  the  king’s  ears.  You  must  promise  never 
to  address  me  in  the  language  of  passion  again.” 

“ If  I may  not  utter  my  love,  I shall  go  mad,”  replied 
Norris.  “After  raising  me  to  the  verge  of  Paradise,  do 
not  thrust  me  to  the  depths  of  Tartarus.” 

“ I have  neither  raised  you,  nor  do  I cast  you  down,” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


343 


rejoined  Anne.  “ That  I am  sensible  of  your  devotion, 
and  grateful  for  it,  I admit,  but  nothing  more.  My  love 
and  allegiance  are  due  to  the  king.” 

“ True,”  replied  Norris,  bitterly ; “ they  are  so,  but  he 
is  wholly  insensible  to  your  merits.  At  this  very  mo- 
ment, he  is  pouring  his  love- vows  in  the  ear  of  Jane 
Seymour.” 

“ Ah ! is  he  so  ? ” cried  Anne.  “ Let  me  have  proof  of 
his  perfidy,  and  I may  incline  a more  favorable  ear  to  you.” 

“ I will  instantly  obtain  you  the  proof,  madam,”  replied 
Norris,  bowing  and  departing. 

Scarcely  had  he  quitted  the  queen,  and  mixed  with  the 
throng  of  dancers,  than  he  felt  a pressure  upon  his  arm, 
and  turning  at  the  touch,  beheld  a tall  monk,  the  lower 
part  of  whose  face  was  muffled  up,  leaving  only  a pair  of 
fierce  black  eyes,  and  a large  aquiline  nose  visible. 

“I  know  what  you  want,  Sir  Henry  Norris,”  said  the 
tall  monk,  in  a low,  deep  voice ; “ you  wish  to  give  the 
queen  proof  of  her  royal  lord’s  inconstancy.  It  is  easily 
done.  Come  with  me.” 

“Who  are  you?”  demanded  Norris,  doubtfully. 

“ What  matters  it  who  I am  ? ” rejoined  the  other ; “ I 
am  one  of  the  masquers,  and  chance  to  know  what  is  pass- 
ing around  me.  I do  not  inquire  into  your  motives,  and 
therefore  you  have  no  right  to  inquire  into  mine.” 

“ It  is  not  for  my  own  satisfaction  that  I desire  this 
proof,”  said  Norris,  “because  I would  rather  shield  the 
king’s  indiscretions  than  betray  them.  But  the  queen 
has  conceived  suspicions  which  she  is  determined  to 
verify.” 

“Think  not  to  impose  upon  me,”  replied  the  monk, 
with  a sneer.  “ Bring  the  queen  this  way,  and  she  shall 
be  fully  satisfied.” 

“ I can  run  no  risk  in  trusting  you,”  said  Norris,  “ and 
therefore  I accept  your  offer.” 


344 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Say  no  more,”  cried  the  monk,  disdainfully.  “ I will 
await  you  here.” 

And  Norris  returned  to  the  queen. 

“ Have  you  discovered  anything  ? ” she  cried. 

“Come  with  me,  madam,”  said  Norris,  bowing,  and 
taking  her  hand. 

Proceeding  thus,  they  glided  through  the  throng  of 
dancers,  who  respectfully  cleared  a passage  for  them  as 
they  walked  along,  until  they  approached  the  spot  where 
the  tall  monk  was  standing.  As  they  drew  near  him,  he 
moved  on,  and  Norris  and  the  queen  followed  in  silence. 
Passing  from  the  great  hall  in  which  the  crowd  of  dancers 
were  assembled,  they  descended  a short  flight  of  steps,  at 
the  foot  of  which,  the  monk  paused,  and  pointed  with  his 
right  hand  to  a chamber,  partly  screened  by  the  folds  of 
a curtain. 

At  this  intimation,  the  queen  and  her  companion  stepped 
quickly  on,  and  as  she  advanced,  Anne  Boleyn  perceived 
Jane  Seymour  and  the  king  seated  on  a couch  within  the 
apartment.  Henry  was  habited  like  a pilgrim,  but  he 
had  thrown  down  his  hat,  ornamented  with  the  scallop- 
shell,  his  vizard,  and  his  staff,  and  had  just  forced  his 
fair  companion  to  unmask. 

At  the  sight,  Anne  was  transfixed  with  jealous  rage, 
and  was  for  the  moment  almost  unconscious  of  the  pres- 
ence of  Norris,  or  of  the  monk,  who  remained  behind  the 
curtain,  pointing  to  what  was  taking  place. 

“ Your  majesty  is  determined  to  expose  my  blushes,” 
said  Jane  Seymour,  slightly  struggling  with  her  royal 
lover. 

“ Nay,  I only  want  to  be  satisfied  that  it  is  really  your- 
self, sweetheart,”  cried  Henry,  passionately.  “It  was  in 
mercy  to  me,  I suppose,  that  you  insisted  upon  shrouding 
those  beauteous  features  from  my  view.” 

“ Hear  you  that,  madam  ? ” whispered  Norris  to  Anne, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


345 


The  queen  answered  by  a convulsive  clasp  of  the  hand. 

“ Your  majesty  but  jests  with  me,”  said  Jane  Seymour. 

46  Jests  ! ” cried  Henry,  passionately.  44  By  my  faith,  I 
never  understood  the  power  of  beauty  till  now.  No 
charms  ever  moved  my  heart  like  yours;  nor  shall  I 
know  a moment’s  peace  till  you  become  mine.” 

44 1 am  grieved  to  hear  it,  my  liege,”  replied  Jane  Sey- 
mour, 44  for  I never  can  be  yours,  unless  as  your  queen.” 

Again  Norris  hazarded  a whisper  to  Anne  Boleyn, 
which  was  answered  by  another  nervous  grasp  of  the 
hand. 

44  That  is  as  much  as  to  say,”  pursued  Jane,  seeing  the 
gloomy  reverie  into  which  her  royal  lover  was  thrown, 
44 1 can  give  your  majesty  no  hopes  at  all.” 

44  You  have  been  schooled  by  Anne  Boleyn,  sweetheart,” 
said  Henry. 

44  How  so,  my  liege  ? ” demanded  Jane  Seymour. 

44  Those  are  the  very  words  she  used  to  me  when  I 
wooed  her,  and  which  induced  me  to  divorce  Catherine  of 
Aragon,”  replied  Henry.  44  Now  they  may  bring  about 
her  own  removal.” 

44  Just  Heaven  ! ” murmured  Anne. 

44 1 dare  not  listen  to  your  majesty,”  said  Jane  Seymour, 
in  a tremulous  tone  ; 44  and  yet,  if  I dared  speak ” 

44  Speak  on,  fearlessly,  sweetheart,”  said  Henry. 

44  Then  I am  well  assured,”  said  Jane,  44  that  the  queen 
no  longer  loves  you ; nay,  that  she  loves  another.” 

44  It  is  false,  minion  ! ” cried  Anne  Boleyn,  rushing  for- 
ward, while  Norris  hastily  retreated — 44  it  is  false  ! It  is 
you  who  would  deceive  the  king  for  your  own  purposes. 
But  I have  fortunately  been  brought  hither  to  prevent 
the  injury  you  would  do  me.  Oh ! Henry,  have  I de- 
served this  of  you  ? ” 

44  You  have  chanced  to  overhear  part  of  a scene  in  a 
masquerade,  madam — that  is  all,”  said  the  king. 


346 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ I have  chanced  to  arrive  most  opportunely  for  my- 
self,” said  Anne.  “ As  for  this  slanderous  and  deceitful 
minion,  I shall  dismiss  her  from  my  service.  If  your 
majesty  is  determined  to  prove  faithless  to  me,  it  shall 
not  be  with  one  of  my  own  dames.” 

“ Catherine  of  Aragon  should  have  made  that  speech,” 
retorted  Jane  Seymour,  bitterly ; “ she  had  reason  to  com- 
plain that  she  was  supplanted  by  one  much  beneath  her. 
And  she  never  played  the  king  falsely.” 

“ Nor  have  I,”  cried  Anne,  fiercely ; “ if  I had  my  will 
I should  strike  thee  dead,  for  the  insinuation.  Henry — 
my  lord — my  love — if  you  have  any  regard  for  me,  in- 
stantly dismiss  Jane  Seymour.” 

“ It  may  not  be,  madam,”  replied  Henry,  in  a freezing 
tone.  “ She  has  done  nothing  to  deserve  dismissal.  If 
any  one  is  to  blame  in  the  matter,  it  is  myself.” 

“And  will  you  allow  her  to  make  these  accusations 
against  me  without  punishment  ? ” cried  Anne. 

“ Peace,  madam  ! ” cried  the  king,  sternly  ; “ and  thank 
my  good-nature  that  I go  no  further  into  the  matter.  If 
you  are  weary  of  the  masque,  I pray  you  retire  to  your 
own  apartments.  For  myself,  I shall  lead  Jane  Seymour 
to  the  bransle.” 

“And  if  your  majesty  should  need  a partner,”  said 
Jane,  walking  up  to  Anne,  and  speaking  in  a low  tone, 
“ you  will  doubtless  find  Sir  Henry  Norris  disengaged.” 

The  queen  looked  as  if  stricken  by  a thunderbolt.  She 
heard  the  triumphant  laugh  of  her  rival ; she  saw  her  led 
forth,  all  smiles  and  beauty  and  triumph,  by  the  king  to 
the  dance  ; and  she  covered  her  face  in  agony.  While  she 
was  in  this  state,  a deep  voice  breathed  in  her  ears,  “ The 
vengeance  of  Catherine  of  Aragon  begins  to  work ! ” 

Looking  up,  she  beheld  the  tall  figure  of  the  monk 
retreating  from  the  chamber. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


347 


CHAPTER  III. 

WHAT  PASSED  BETWEEN  NOKKIS  AND  THE  TALL  MONK. 

Totteking  to  the  seat  which  Henry  and  Jane  had  just 
quitted,  Anne  sank  into  it.  After  a little  time,  having  in 
some  degree  recovered  her  composure,  she  was  about  to 
return  to  the  great  hall,  when  Norris  appeared. 

“ I did  not  deceive  you,  madam,”  he  said,  “ when  I told 
you  the  king  was  insensible  to  your  charms.  He  only 
lives  for  Jane  Seymour.” 

“Would  I could  dismiss  her ! ” cried  Anne,  furiously. 

“If  you  were  to  do  so,  she  would  soon  be  replaced 
by  another,”  rejoined  Norris.  “ The  king  delights  only 
in  change.  With  him,  the  last  face  is  ever  the  most 
beautiful.” 

“ You  speak  fearful  treason,  sir ! ” replied  Anne — “ but 
I believe  it  to  be  the  truth.” 

“ Oh,  then,  madam ! ” pursued  Norris,  “ since  the  king 
is  so  regardless  of  you,  why  trouble  yourself  about  him  ? 
— there  are  those  who  would  sacrifice  a thousand  lives,  if 
they  possessed  them,  for  your  love.” 

“ I fear  it  is  the  same  with  all  men,”  rejoined  Anne. 
“ A woman’s  heart  is  a bauble  which,  when  obtained,  is 
speedily  tossed  aside.” 

“ Your  majesty  judges  our  sex  too  harshly,”  said  Norris. 
“ If  I had  the  same  fortune  as  the  king,  I should  never 
change.” 

“ The  king  himself  once  thought  so, — once  swore  so,” 
replied  Anne  petulantly.  “ It  is  the  common  parlance  of 
lovers.  But  I may  not  listen  to  such  discourse  longer.” 

“Oh,  madam  1”  cried  Norris,  “you  misjudge  me 


348 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


greatly.  My  heart  is  not  made  of  the  same  stuff  as  that 
of  the  royal  Henry.  I can  love  deeply— devotedly — last- 
ingly.” 

46  Know  you  not  that,  by  these  rash  speeches,  you  place 
your  head  in  jeopardy  ? ” said  Anne. 

44 1 would  rather  lose  it  than  not  be  permitted  to  love 
you,”  he  replied. 

44  But  your  rashness  endangers  me,”  said  the  queen. 
44  Your  passion  has  already  been  noticed  by  Jane  Sey- 
mour, and  the  slightest  further  indiscretion  will  be 
fatal.” 

44  Nay,  if  that  be  so,”  cried  Norris,  44  and  your  majesty 
should  be  placed  in  peril  on  my  account,  I will  banish 
myself  from  the  court,  and  from  your  presence,  whatever 
the  effort  may  cost  me  ! ” 

44  No,”  replied  Anne,  44 1 will  not  tax  you  so  hardly.  I 
do  not  think,”  she  added,  tenderly — 44  deserted,  as  I am, 
by  the  king,  that  I could  spare  you.” 

44  You  confess,  then,  that  I have  inspired  you  with  some 
regard  ? ” he  cried,  rapturously. 

44  Do  not  indulge  in  these  transports,  Norris,”  said 
Anne,  mournfully.  44  Your  passion  will  only  lead  to  your 
destruction — perchance,  to  mine  ! Let  the  certainty  that 
I do  love,  content  you,  and  seek  not  to  tempt  your  fate 
further.” 

44  Oh  ! madam,  you  make  me  the  happiest  of  men  by  the 
avowal,”  he  cried.  44 1 envy  not  now  the  king,  for  I feel 
raised  above  him  by  your  love.” 

44  You  must  join  the  revel,  Norris,”  said  Anne — 44  your 
absence  from  it  will  be  observed.” 

And  extending  her  hand  to  him,  he  knelt  down,  and 
pressed  it  passionately  to  his  lips. 

44  Ah ! we  are  observed,”  she  cried,  suddenly,  and  almost 
with  a shriek.  44  Rise,  sir  ! ” 

Norris  instantly  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  to  his  inex- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


349 


pressible  dismay,  saw  the  figure  of  the  tall  monk  gliding 
away.  Throwing  a meaning  look  at  the  almost  sinking 
queen,  he  followed  the  mysterious  observer  into  the  great 
hall,  determined  to  rid  himself  of  him  in  some  way, 
before  he  should  have  time  to  make  any  revelations. 

Avoiding  the  brilliant  throng,  the  monk  entered  the 
adjoining  corridor,  and  descending  the  great  staircase, 
passed  into  the  upper  quadrangle.  From  thence,  he  pro- 
ceeded towards  the  cloisters  near  St.  George’s  Chapel, 
where  he  was  overtaken  by  Norris,  who  had  followed  t 
him  closely. 

“What  would  you  with  me,  Sir  Henry  Norris  ? ” cried 
the  monk,  halting. 

“ You  may  guess,”  said  Norris,  sternly,  and  drawing 
his  sword.  “ There  are  secrets  which  are  dangerous  to 
the  possessor.  Unless  you  swear  never  to  betray  what 
you  have  seen  and  heard,  you  die.” 

The  tall  monk  laughed  derisively. 

“You  know  that  your  life  is  in  my  power,”  he  said, 
“and  therefore  you  threaten  mine.  Well,  e’en  take  it  if 
you  can.” 

As  he  spoke,  he  drew  a sword  from  beneath  his  robe, 
and  stood  upon  his  defense.  After  a few  passes,  Norris’s 
weapon  was  beaten  from  his  grasp. 

“You  are  now  completely  at  my  mercy,”  said  the 
monk — “ and  I have  nothing  to  do  but  to  call  the  guard, 
and  declare  all  I have  heard  to  the  king.” 

“ I would  rather  you  plunged  your  sword  into  my 
heart,”  said  Norris. 

“ There  is  one  way — and  only  one,  by  which  my  se- 
crecy may  be  purchased,”  said  the  monk. 

“Name  it,”  replied  Norris.  “ Were  it  to  be  purchased 
by  my  soul’s  perdition,  I would  embrace  it.” 

“You  have  hit  the  point  exactly,”  rejoined  the  monk, 
drily.  “ Can  you  not  guess  with  whom  you  have  to  deal  ? ” 


350 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ Partly,”  replied  Norris ; “ I never  found  such  force  in 
mortal  arm  as  you  have  displayed.” 

“ Probably  not,”  laughed  the  other — “ most  of  those  who 
have  ventured  against  me  have  found  their  match.  But 
come  with  me  into  the  park,  and  you  shall  learn  the  con- 
dition of  my  secrecy.” 

“ I cannot  quit  the  castle,”  replied  Norris ; “ but  I 
will  take  you  to  my  lodgings,  where  we  shall  be  wholly 
unobserved.” 

And  crossing  the  lower  ward,  they  proceeded  to  the 
tower  on  the  south  side  of  it,  now  appropriated  to  the 
Governor  of  the  Alms  Knights. 

About  an  hour  after  this,  Norris  returned  to  the  revel. 
His  whole  demeanor  was  altered,  and  his  looks  ghastly. 
He  sought  out  the  queen,  who  had  returned  to  the  seat  in 
the  embrasure. 

“ What  has  happened  ? ” said  Anne,  in  a low  tone,  as  he 
approached  her.  “ Have  you  killed  him  ? ” 

“ No,”  he  replied ; “ but  I have  purchased  our  safety  at 
a terrible  price.” 

“You  alarm  me,  Norris — what  mean  you  ?”  she  cried. 

“ I mean  this,”  he  answered,  regarding  her  with  pas- 
sionate earnestness — “ that  you  must  love  me  now,  for  I 
have  periled  my  salvation  for  you.  That  tall  monk  was 
Herne  the  Hunter.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


351 


CHAPTER  IY. 

OF  THE  SECRET  INTERVIEW  BETWEEN  NORRIS  AND  ANNE 

BOLEYN  ; — AND  OF  THE  DISSIMULATION  PRACTISED  BY 

THE  KING. 

Henry’s  attentions  to  Jane  Seymour  at  the  masqued 
fete  were  so  marked,  that  the  whole  court  was  made 
aware  of  his  passion.  But  it  was  not  anticipated  that 
any  serious  and  extraordinary  consequences  would  result 
from  the  intoxication, — far  less  that  the  queen  herself 
would  be  removed  to  make  way  for  her  successful  rival. 
It  was  afterwards,  however,  remembered  that  at  this 
time,  Henry  held  frequent,  long,  and  grave  conferences 
with  the  Dukes  of  Suffolk  and  Norfolk,  and  appeared  to 
be  engrossed  in  the  meditation  of  some  project. 

After  the  scene  at  the  revel,  Anne  did  not  make  an- 
other exhibition  of  jealousy;  but  it  was  not  that  she  was 
reconciled  to  her  situation,  or  in  any  way  free  from 
uneasiness.  On  the  contrary,  the  unhappy  Catherine  of 
Aragon  did  not  suffer  more  in  secret;  but  she  knew, 
from  experience,  that  with  her  royal  consort  all  reproaches 
would  be  unavailing. 

One  morning,  when  she  was  alone  within  her  chamber, 
her  father,  who  was  now  Earl  of  Wiltshire,  obtained 
admittance  to  her. 

“ You  have  a troubled  look,  my  dear  lord,”  she  said,  as 
she  motioned  him  to  a seat. 

“ And  with  good  reason,”  he  replied.  “ Oh ! Anne, 
words  cannot  express  my  anxiety  at  the  present  state  of 
things.” 

“ It  will  speedily  pass  by,  my  lord,”  she  replied ; “ the 
king  will  soon  be  tired  of  his  new  idol.” 


352 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“Not  before  he  has  overthrown  the  old  one,  I fear,” 
rejoined  the  earl.  “ Jane  Seymour’s  charms  have  usurped 
entire  sovereignty  over  him.  With  all  her  air  of  ingenu- 
ousness and  simplicity,  the  minion  is  artful  and  danger- 
ous. She  has  a high  mark,  I am  persuaded — no  less  than 
the  throne.” 

“ But  Henry  cannot  wed  her, — he  cannot  divorce  me,” 
said  Anne. 

“ So  thought  Catherine  of  Aragon,”  replied  her  father ; 
“ and  yet  she  was  divorced.  Anne,  I am  convinced  that 
a plot  is  hatching  against  you.” 

“You  do  not  fear  for  my  life,  father?”  she  cried, 
trembling. 

“ I trust  there  are  no  grounds  for  charges  against  you 
by  which  it  might  be  brought  in  jeopardy,”  replied  the 
earl,  gravely. 

“None,  father — none  ! ” she  exclaimed. 

“ I am  glad  of  it,”  rejoined  the  earl ; “ for  I have  heard 
that  the  king  said  to  one  who  suggested  another  divorce 
to  him, — c No,  if  the  queen  comes  within  the  scope  of  the 
divorce,  she  also  comes  within  the  pale  of  the  scaffold.’  ” 

“ A pledge  was  extorted  from  him  to  that  effect,”  said 
Anne,  in  a hollow  voice. 

“ That  an  attempt  will  be  made  against  you,  I firmly 
believe,”  replied  the  earl;  “but  if  you  are  wholly  inno- 
cent you  have  nothing  to  fear.” 

“ Oh,  father ! I know  not  that,”  cried  Anne.  “ Inno- 
cence avails  little  with  the  stony-hearted  Henry.” 

“ It  will  prove  your  best  safeguard,”  said  the  earl. 
“ And  now  farewell,  daughter ! Heaven  guard  you ! 
Keep  the  strictest  watch  upon  yourself.” 

So  saying,  he  quitted  the  apartment,  and  as  soon  as 
she  was  left  alone,  the  unhappy  Anne  burst  into  an  agony 
of  tears. 

From  this  state  of  affliction  she  was  roused  by  hearing 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  353 

her  own  name  pronounced  in  low  accents,  and  looking  up 
she  beheld  Sir  Henry  Norris. 

66  Oh,  Norris ! ” she  said,  in  a tone  of  reproach,  “ you 
have  come  hither  to  destroy  me.” 

“No  one  knows  of  my  coming,”  he  said  ; “ at  least,  no 
one  who  will  betray  me.  I was  brought  hither  by  one 
who  will  take  care  we  are  not  observed.” 

“ By  Herne  ? ” demanded  Anne. 

Norris  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

“ Would  you  had  never  leagued  yourself  with  him  ! ” 
she  cried,  “ I fear  the  rash  act  will  bring  destruction  upon 
us  both.” 

“It is  too  late  to  retract  now,”  he  replied;  “besides, 
there  was  no  help  for  it.  I sacrificed  myself  to  preserve 
you.” 

“ But  will  the  sacrifice  preserve  me  ? ” she  cried.  “ I 
fear  not.  I have  just  been  told  that  the  king  is  preparing 
some  terrible  measure  against  me — that  he  meditates 
removing  me,  to  make  way  for  Jane  Seymour.” 

“You  have  heard  the  truth,  madam,”  replied  Norris; 
“ he  will  try  to  bring  you  to  the  block.” 

“And  with  him,  to  try  is  to  achieve/'  said  Anne. 
“ Oh ! Norris,  it  is  a fearful  thing  to  contemplate  such  a 
death ! ” 

“ But  why  contemplate  it,  madam  ? ” said  Norris ; “ why, 
if  you  are  satisfied  that  the  king  has  such  designs  against 
you — why,  if  you  feel  that  he  will  succeed,  tarry  for  the 
fatal  blow  ? — Fly  with  me — fly  with  one  who  loves  you, 
and  will  devote  his  whole  life  to  you— who  regards  you 
not  as  the  queen,  but  as  Anne  Boleyn.  Relinquish  this 
false  and  hollow  grandeur,  and  fly  with  me  to  happiness 
and  peace.” 

“And  relinquish  my  throne  to  Jane  Seymour?”  re- 
joined Anne.  “ Never  ! I feel  that  all  you  assert  is  true 
— that  my  present  position  is  hazardous — that  Jane  Sey- 


354 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


mour  is  in  the  ascendant,  whilQ  I am  on  the  decline,  if  not 
wholly  sunk — that  you  love  me  entirely,  and  would  de- 
vote your  life  to  me — still,  with  all  these  motives  for 
dread,  I cannot  prevail  upon  myself  voluntarily  to  give 
up  my  title,  and  to  abandon  my  post  to  a rival.” 

“ You  do  not  love  me  then,  as  I love  you,  Anne,”  said 
Norris.  “ If  I were  king,  I would  abandon  my  throne 
for  you.” 

“ You  think  so  now,  Norris,  because  you  are  not  king,” 
she  replied.  “ But  I am  queen,  and  will  remain  so,  till  I 
am  forced  to  abandon  my  dignity.” 

“I  understand,  madame,”  rejoined  Norris,  gloomily. 
44  But  oh ! bethink  you  to  what  risks  you  expose  your- 
self. You  know  the  king’s  terrible  determination — his 
vindictiveness,  his  ferocity.” 

“ Full  well,”  she  replied — “ full  well  ; but  I will  rather 
die  a queen  than  live  disgraced  and  ruined.  In  wedding 
Henry  the  Eighth,  I laid  my  account  to  certain  risks,  and 
those  I must  brave.” 

Before  Norris  could  urge  anything  further,  the  door 
was  suddenly  opened,  and  a tall,  dark  figure  entered  the 
chamber,  and  said,  hastily, 

44  The  king  is  at  hand.” 

“ One  word  more,  and  it  is  my  last,”  said  Norris,  to 
Anne.  44  Will  you  fly  with  me  to-night? — all  shall  be 
ready.” 

44 1 cannot,”  replied  Anne. 

44  Away ! ” cried  Herne,  dragging  Norris  forcibly  be- 
hind the  tapestry. 

Scarcely  had  they  disappeared  when  Henry  entered 
the  chamber.  He  was  in  a gayer  mood  than  had  been 
usual  with  him  of  late. 

44 1 am  come  to  tell  you,  madam,”  he  said,  44  that  I am 
about  to  hold  jousts  in  the  castle  on  the  first  of  May,  at 
which  your  good  brother  and  mine,  the  Lord  Rochford, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  355 

will  be  the  challenger,  while  I myself  shall  be  the 
defendant.  You  will  adjudge  the  prize.” 

“ Why  not  make  Jane  Seymour  queen  of  the  jousts  ? ” 
said  Anne,  unable  to  resist  the  remark. 

“ She  will  be  present  at  them,”  said  Henry, 46  but  I have 
my  own  reasons,”  he  added  significantly,  44  for  not  wish- 
ing her  to  appear  as  queen  on  this  occasion.” 

44  Whatever  may  be  your  reasons,  the  wish  is  sufficient 
for  me,”  said  Anne.  44  Nay,  will  you  not  tarry  a moment 
with  me  ? It  is  long  since  we  have  had  any  converse  in 
private  together.” 

44 1 am  busy  at  this  moment,”  replied  Henry,  bluffly ; 
44  but  what  is  it  you  would  say  to  me  ? ” 

44 1 would  only  reproach  you  for  some  lack  of  tender- 
ness, and  much  neglect,”  said  Anne.  44  Oh ! Henry  ! do 
you  remember  how  you  swore  by  your  life — your  crown 
— your  faith — all  that  you  held  sacred  or  dear, — that  you 
would  love  me  ever  ? ” 

44  And  so  I would,  if  I could,”  replied  the  king  ; 44  but 
unfortunately  the  heart  is  not  entirely  under  control. 
Have  you,  yourself,  for  instance,  experienced  no  change 
in  your  affections  ? ” 

44  No,”  replied  Anne  ; 44 1 have  certainly  suffered 
severely  from  your  too  evident  regard  for  Jane  Seymour ; 
but  though  deeply  mortified  and  distressed,  I have  never 
for  a moment  been  shaken  in  my  love  for  your  majesty.” 

44  A loyal  and  loving  reply,”  said  Henry.  44 1 thought 
I had  perceived  some  slight  diminution  in  your  regard.” 

44  You  did  yourself  grievous  injustice  by  the  sup- 
position,” replied  Anne. 

44 1 would  fain  believe  so,”  said  the  king ; 44  but  there 
are  some  persons  who  would  persuade  me  that  you  have 
not  only  lost  your  affection  for  me,  but  have  even  cast 
eyes  of  regard  on  another.” 

44  Those  who  told  you  so  lied  ! ” cried  Anne,  passion- 


356 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


ately.  “ Never  woman  was  freer  from  such  imputation 
than  myself.” 

44  Never  woman  was  more  consummate  hypocrite,” 
muttered  Henry. 

44  You  do  not  credit  me,  I see  ? ” cried  Anne. 

44  If  I did  not,  I should  know  how  to  act,”  replied  the 
king.  44  You  remember  my  pledge.” 

44  Full  well,”  replied  Anne  ; 44  and  if  love  and  duty 
would  not  restrain  me,  fear  would.” 

44  So  I felt,”  rejoined  the  king  ; 44  but  there  are  some  of 
your  sex  upon  whom  nothing  will  operate  as  a warning, 
— so  faithless  and  inconstant  are  they  by  nature.  It  has 
been  hinted  to  me  that  you  are  one  of  these.  But  I can- 
not think  it.  I can  never  believe  that  a woman  for  whom 
I have  placed  my  very  throne  in  jeopardy — for  whom  I 
have  divorced  my  queen — whose  family  I have  elevated 
and  ennobled — and  whom  I have  placed  upon  the  throne, 
— would  play  me  false.  It  is  monstrous ! — incredible  ! ” 

44  It  is — it  is  ! ” replied  Anne. 

44  And  now  farewell,”  said  Henry.  44 1 have  stayed 
longer  than  I intended ; and  I should  not  have  men- 
tioned these  accusations,  which  I regard  as  wholly  ground- 
less, unless  you  had  reproached  me.” 

And  he  quitted  the  chamber,  leaving  Anne  in  a strange 
state  of  perplexity  and  terror. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


357 


CHAPTER  Y. 

WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  JOUSTS. 

The  first  of  May  arrived  ; and  though  destined  to  set 
in  darkness  and  despair,  it  arose  in  sunshine  and  smiles. 

All  were  astir  at  an  early  hour  within  the  castle,  and 
preparations  were  made  for  the  approaching  show.  Lists 
were  erected  in  the  upper  quadrangle,  and  the  whole  of 
the  vast  area  was  strewn  with  sand.  In  front  of  the 
royal  lodgings  was  raised  a gallery,  the  center  of  which 
being  set  apart  for  the  queen  and  her  dames,  was  covered 
with  cloth  of  gold  and  crimson  velvet,  on  which  the  royal 
arms  were  gorgeously  emblazoned.  The  two  wings  were 
likewise  richly  decorated,  and  adorned  with  scutcheons 
and  pennons,  while  from  the  battlements  of  the  eastern 
side  of  the  court  were  hung  a couple  of  long  flags. 

As  soon  as  these  preparations  were  completed,  a throng 
of  pages,  esquires,  armorers,  archers,  and  henchmen, 
entered  it  from  the  Norman  gateway,  and  took  up  posi- 
tions within  the  barriers,  the  space  without  the  pales 
being  kept  by  a double  line  of  halberdiers.  Next  came 
the  trumpeters,  mounted  on  richly-caparisoned  horses, 
and  having  their  clarions  decorated  with  silken  bandrols, 
fringed  with  gold.  Stationing  themselves  at  the  principal 
entrance  of  the  lists,  they  were  speedily  joined  by  the 
heralds,  pursuivants,  and  other  officers  of  the  tilt-yard. 

Presently  afterwards,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  who  was 
appointed  judge  of  the  lists,  appeared  and  rode  round  the 
arena  to  see  that  all  was  in  order.  Apparently  well 
satisfied  with  the  survey,  he  dismounted,  and  proceeded 
to  the  gallery. 


358 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Meanwhile,  the  crowd  within  the  court  was  increased 
by  a great  influx  of  the  different  members  of  the  house- 
hold, amongst  whom  were  Shoreditch,  Paddington,  and 
Hector  Cutbeard. 

“ Marry,  this  promises  to  be  a splendid  sight ! ” said 
the  clerk  of  the  kitchen ; “ the  king  will,  no  doubt,  do 
his  devoir  gallantly  for  the  sake  of  the  bright  eyes  that 
will  look  upon  him.” 

“ You  mean  the  queen’s,  of  course  ? ” said  Shoreditch. 

“ I mean  hers  who  may  be  queen,”  replied  Cutbeard — 
“ Mistress  Jane  Seymour.” 

“ May  be  queen ! ” exclaimed  Shoreditch.  “ Y ou  surely 
do  not  think  the  king  will  divorce  his  present  consort  ? ” 

“ Stranger  things  have  happened,”  replied  Cutbeard, 
significantly.  “ If  I am  not  greatly  out  in  my  reckoning,” 
he  added,  “these  are  the  last  jousts  Queen  Anne  will 
behold.” 

“ The  saints  forfend ! ” cried  Shoreditch ; “ what  reason 
have  you  for  thinking  so  ? ” 

“That  I may  not  declare,”  replied  Cutbeard;  “but 
before  the  jousts  are  over,  you  will  see  whether  I have 
been  rightly  informed  or  not.” 

“ Hush ! ” exclaimed  Shoreditch.  “ There  is  a tall  monk 
eyeing  us  strangely ; and  I am  not  certain  that  he  has  not 
overheard  what  you  have  said.” 

“ He  is  welcome  to  the  intelligence,”  replied  Cutbeard ; 
“ the  end  will  prove  its  truth.” 

Though  this  was  uttered  in  a confident  tone,  he,  never- 
theless, glanced  with  some  misgiving  at  the  monk,  who 
stood  behind  Paddington.  The  object  of  the  investi- 
gation was  a very  tall  man,  with  a cowl  drawn  over  his 
brow.  He  had  a ragged  black  beard,  fierce  dark  eyes, 
and  a complexion  like  bronze.  Seeing  Cutbeard’s  glance 
anxiously  fixed  upon  him,  he  advanced  towards  him,  and 
said,  in  a low  tone — 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  359 

“ You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  me ; but  talk  not  so 
loud,  if  you  value  your  head.” 

So  saying,  he  proceeded  to  another  part  of  the  lists. 

“ Who  is  that  tall  monk  ? ” asked  Paddington. 

“ Devil  knows ! ” answered  Cutbeard.  “ I never  saw 
him  before ; but  he  has  a villainous,  cut-throat  look.” 

Soon  afterwards,  a flourish  of  trumpets  was  heard,  and 
amid  their  joyous  bruit,  the  queen,  sumptuously  arrayed 
in  cloth  of  gold  and  ermine,  and  having  a small  crown 
upon  her  brow,  entered  the  gallery,  and  took  her  seat 
within  it.  Never  had  she  looked  more  beautiful  than  on 
this  fatal  morning ; and  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  beholders  she 
completely  eclipsed  her  rival,  Jane  Seymour.  The  latter, 
who  stood  on  her  right  hand,  and  was  exquisitely  attired, 
had  a thoughtful  and  anxious  air,  as  if  some  grave 
matter  weighed  upon  her  mind. 

While  the  queen’s  attendants  were  taking  their  places, 
Lord  Rochford,  accompanied  by  Sir  Henry  Norris,  and 
the  Earls  of  Surrey  and  Essex,  entered  the  lists.  The 
four  knights  were  completely  armed,  and  mounted  on 
powerful  steeds  barded  with  rich  cloth  of  gold,  embroid- 
ered with  silver  letters.  Each  had  a great  crimson  plume 
in  his  helmet.  They  rode  singly  round  the  arena,  and 
bowed  as  they  passed  the  royal  gallery,  Norris  bending 
almost  to  his  saddle-bow  while  performing  his  salutation 
to  the  queen. 

The  field  being  thus  taken  by  the  challengers,  who  re- 
tired to  the  upper  end  of  the  court,  a trumpet  was  thrice 
sounded  by  a herald,  and  an  answer  was  immediately 
made  by  another  herald,  stationed  opposite  Henry  the 
Seventh’s  buildings.  When  the  clamor  ceased,  the  king, 
fully  armed,  and  followed  by  the  Marquis  of  Dorset,  Sir 
Thomas  Wyat,  and  the  Lord  Clifford,  rode  into  the  lists. 

Henry  was  equipped  in  a superb  suit  of  armor,  inlaid 
with  gold,  and  having  a breastplate  of  the  globose  form. 


360 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


then  in  vogue.  His  helmet  was  decorated  with  a large 
snow-white  plume.  The  trappings  of  his  steed  were  of 
crimson  velvet,  embroidered  with  the  royal  arms,  and 
edged  with  great  letters  of  massive  gold  bullion,  full  of 
pearls  and  precious  stones.  He  was  attended  by  a hun- 
dred gentlemen,  armorers,  and  other  officers,  arrayed  in 
white  velvet. 

Having  ridden  round  the  court  like  the  others,  and 
addressed  his  salutation  exclusively  to  Jane  Seymour, 
Henry  took  his  station  with  his  companions  near  the 
base  of  the  Round  Tower,  the  summit  of  which  was 
covered  with  spectators,  as  were  the  towers  and  battle- 
ments around. 

A trumpet  was  now  sounded,  and  the  king  and  the  Lord 
Rochford  having  each  taken  a lance  from  his  esquire, 
awaited  the  signal  to  start  from  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  who 
was  seated  in  the  left  wing  of  the  royal  gallery.  It  was 
not  long  delayed.  As  the  clarion  sounded  clearly  and 
loudly  for  the  third  time,  he  called  out  that  the  champions 
might  go. 

No  sooner  were  the  words  uttered,  than  the  thundering 
tramp  of  the  steeds  resounded,  and  the  opponents  met 
mid- way.  Both  their  lances  were  shivered ; but  as  the 
king  did  not,  in  the  slightest  degree,  change  his  position, 
he  was  held  to  have  the  best  of  it.  Courses  were  then 
run  by  the  others,  with  varied  success,  the  Marquis  of 
Dorset  being  unhorsed  by  Sir  Henry  Norris,  whose 
prowess  was  rewarded  by  the  plaudits  of  the  assemblage, 
and  what  \ as  infinitely  more  dear  to  him,  by  the  smiles  of 
the  queen. 

“You  have  ridden  well,  Norris,”  cried  Henry,  advanc- 
ing towards  him.  “ Place  yourself  opposite  me,  and  let 
us  splinter  a lance  together.” 

As  Norris  reined  back  his  steed,  in  compliance  with  the 
injunction,  the  tall  monk  stepped  from  out  the  line,  and 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


361 


drawing  near  him,  said,  46  If  you  wish  to  prove  victorious, 
aim  at  the  upper  part  of  the  king’s  helmet.”  And  with 
these  words,  he  withdrew. 

By  the  time  Norris  had  placed  his  lance  in  the  rest,  the 
trumpet  sounded.  The  next  moment,  the  word  was  given, 
and  the  champions  started.  Henry  rode  with  great  im- 
petuosity, and  struck  Norris  in  the  gorget  with  such  good 
will  that  both  he  and  his  steed  were  shaken. 

But  Norris  was  more  fortunate.  Following  the  advice 
of  the  monk,  he  made  the  upper  part  of  the  king’s  helmet 
his  mark,  and  the  blow  was  so  well  dealt,  that,  though  it 
did  not  dislodge  the  royal  horseman,  it  drove  back  his 
steed  on  its  haunches. 

The  success  was  so  unequivocal,  that  Norris  was  at 
once  declared  the  victor  by  the  judge.  No  applause,  how- 
ever, followed  the  decision,  from  a fear  of  giving  offense 
to  the  king. 

Norris  dismounted,  and  committing  his  steed  to  the 
care  of  an  esquire,  and  his  lance  to  a page,  took  off  his 
helmet,  and  advanced  towards  the  royal  gallery,  near 
which  the  Earl  of  Surrey  and  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  were 
standing  talking  with  the  other  dames.  As  Norris  drew 
near,  Anne  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  gallery,  smiled  at 
him  tenderly,  and,  whether  by  design  or  accident,  let  fall 
her  embroidered  handkerchief. 

Norris  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  regarding  her,  as  he  did 
so,  with  a glance  of  the  most  passionate  devotion.  A ter- 
rible gaze,  however,  was  fixed  on  the  unfortunate  pair  at 
that  moment.  It  was  that  of  the  king.  While  Henry 
was  careering  in  front  of  the  gallery  to  display  himself 
before  Jane  Seymour,  a tall  monk  approached  him,  and 
said — 44  Look  at  Sir  Henry  Norris ! ” 

Thus  addressed,  Henry  raised  his  beaver,  that  he  might 
see  more  distinctly,  and  beheld  Norris  take  up  the  em- 
broidered handkerchief,  which  he  recognized  as  one  that 


362 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


he  had  given,  in  the  early  days  of  his  affection,  to  the 
queen. 

The  sight  stung  him  almost  to  madness,  and  he  had 
great  difficulty  in  repressing  his  choler.  But  if  this  slight 
action,  heightened  to  importance,  as  it  was,  by  the  looks 
of  the  parties,  roused  his  ire,  it  was  nothing  to  what  fol- 
lowed. Instead  of  restoring  it  to  the  queen,  Norris,  un- 
conscious of  the  danger  in  which  he  stood,  pressed  the 
handkerchief  fervently  to  his  lips. 

“ I am  hitherto  the  victor  of  the  jousts,”  he  said ; “ may 
I keep  this  as  the  prize  ? ” 

Anne  smiled  assent. 

“It  is  the  proudest  I ever  obtained,”  pursued  Norris. 
And  he  placed  it  within  his  helmet. 

“Does  your  majesty  see  that?”  cried  the  tall  monk, 
who  still  remained  standing  near  the  king. 

“ Death  of  my  life  ! ” exclaimed  Henry,  “ it  is  the  very 
handkerchief  I gave  her  before  our  union ! I can  contain 
myself  no  longer,  and  must  perforce  precipitate  matters. 
What,  ho ! ” he  cried,  riding  up  to  that  part  of  the  gallery 
where  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  was  seated — “ let  the  jousts  be 
stopped ! ” 

“ Wherefore,  my  dear  liege  ? ” said  Suffolk.  “ The  Earl 
of  Surrey  and  Sir  Thomas  Wyat  are  about  to  run  a 
course.” 

“ Let  them  be  stopped,  I say  ! ” roared  Henry,  in  a tone 
that  admitted  of  no  dispute.  And  wheeling  round  his 
charger,  he  dashed  into  the  middle  of  the  barriers,  shout- 
ing in  loud,  authoritative  accents — “ The  jousts  are  at 
end ! Disperse  ! ” 

The  utmost  consternation  was  occasioned  by  the  an- 
nouncement. The  Duke  of  Suffolk  instantly  quitted  his 
seat,  and  pressed  through  the  crowd  to  the  king,  who 
whispered  a few  hasty  words  in  his  ear.  Henry  then 
called  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  the  Marquis  of  Dorset,  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


363 


Lord  Clifford,  Wyat  and  some  others,  and  bidding  them 
attend  him,  prepared  to  quit  the  court.  As  he  passed 
the  royal  gallery,  Anne  called  to  him,  in  an  agonized 
voice — 

“ Oh,  Henry  ! what  is  the  matter  ? — what  have  I done  ? 55 

But  without  paying  the  slightest  attention  to  her,  he 
dashed  through  the  Norman  Gate,  galloped  down  the 
lower  quadrangle,  and  quitted  the  castle. 

The  confusion  that  ensued  may  be  imagined.  All  saw 
that  something  extraordinary  and  terrible  had  taken 
place,  though  few  knew  precisely  what  it  was.  Dismay 
sat  in  every  countenance,  and  the  general  anxiety  was 
heightened  by  the  agitation  of  the  queen,  who,  uttering  a 
piercing  scream,  fell  back,  and  was  borne  off  in  a state  of 
insensibility  by  her  attendants. 

Unable  to  control  himself  at  the  sight,  Norris  burst 
through  the  guard,  and  rushing  up  the  great  staircase, 
soon  gained  the  apartment  to  which  the  queen  had  been 
conveyed.  Owing  to  the  timely  aid  afforded  her,  she  was 
speedily  restored ; and  the  first  person  her  eyes  fell  upon 
was  her  lover.  At  the  sight  of  him,  a glance  of  affection 
illumined  her  features,  but  it  was  instantly  changed  into 
an  expression  of  alarm. 

At  this  juncture,  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  who,  with 
Bouchier  and  a party  of  halberdiers,  had  entered  the 
room,  stepped  up  to  the  queen,  and  said — 

“ Will  it  please  you,  madam,  to  retire  to  an  inner 
apartment.  I grieve  to  say,  you  are  under  arrest.” 

“ Arrest ! ” exclaimed  Anne ; “ for  what  crime,  your 
grace  ? ” 

“ You  are  charged  with  incontinency  towards  the  king’s 
highness,”  replied  Suffolk,  sternly. 

“ But  I am  innocent ! ” cried  Anne— “ as  Heaven  shall 
judge  me,  I am  innocent ! ” 

“ I trust  you  will  be  able  to  prove  yourself  so,  madam,” 


364 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


said  Suffolk.  “ Sir  Henry  Norris,  your  person  is  likewise 
attached.” 

“ Then  I am  lost  indeed ! ” exclaimed  Anne,  distrac- 
tedly. 

“Do  not  let  these  false  and  malignant  accusations 
alarm  you,  madam,”  said  Norris.  “ You  have  nothing  to 
fear.  I will  die  protesting  your  innocence.” 

“ Sir  Henry  Norris,”  said  the  duke,  coldly,  “ your  own 
imprudence  has  brought  about  this  sad  result.” 

“I  feel  it,”  replied  Norris  ; “ and  I deserve  the  worst 
punishment  that  can  be  inflicted  upon  me  for  it.  But  1 
declare  to  you, — as  I will  declare  upon  the  rack,  if  I am 
placed  upon  it, — that  the  queen  is  wholly  innocent.  Let 
her  not  suffer  for  my  fault.” 

“ You  hear  what  Sir  Henry  says,”  cried  Anne ; “ and  I 
call  upon  you  to  recollect  the  testimony  he  has  borne.” 

“ I shall  not  fail  to  do  so,  madam,”  replied  Suffolk. 
“ Your  majesty  will  have  strict  justice.” 

“ Justice  ! ” echoed  Anne,  with  a laugh  of  bitter  incre- 
dulity. “ Justice  from  Henry  the  Eighth  ? ” 

“ Beseech  you,  madam,  do  not  destroy  yourself,”  said 
Norris,  prostrating  himself  before  her.  “Recollect  by 
whom  you  are  surrounded.  My  folly  and  madness  have 
brought  you  into  this  strait,  and  I sincerely  implore  your 
pardon  for  it.” 

“ You  are  not  to  blame,  Norris,”  said  Anne — “it  is  fate, 
not  you,  that  has  destroyed  me.  The  hand  that  has  dealt 
this  blow  is  that  of  a queen  within  the  tomb.” 

“ Captain  Bouchier,”  said  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  address- 
ing that  officer,  who  stood  near  him,  “ you  will  convey  Sir 
Henry  Norris  to  the  strong-room  in  the  lower  gateway, 
whence  he  will  be  removed  to  the  Tower.” 

“Farewell,  forever,  Norris ! ” cried  Anne.  “We  shall 
meet  no  more  on  earth.  In  what  has  fallen  on  me,  I rec- 
ognize the  hand  of  retribution.  But  the  same  measure 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


365 


which  has  been  meted  to  me  shall  be  dealt  to  others.  I 
denounce  Jane  Seymour  before  Heaven ! She  shall  not 
long  retain  the  crown  she  is  about  to  snatch  from  me ! 55 

“ That  imprecation  had  better  have  been  spared, 
madam,”  said  the  duke. 

“ Be  advised,  my  gracious  mistress ! ” cried  Norris ; 
“ and  do  not  let  your  grief  and  distraction  place  you  in^ 
the  power  of  your  enemies.  All  may  yet  go  well.” 

“ I denounce  her ! ” persisted  Anne,  wholly  disregarding 
the  caution ; 46  and  I also  denounce  the  king.  No  union  of 
his  shall  be  happy,  and  other  blood  than  mine  shall  flow ! ” 

At  a sign  from  the  duke,  she  was  here  borne,  half-suf- 
focated with  emotion,  to  an  inner  apartment,  while  Norris 
was  conveyed  by  Bouchier  and  a company  of  halberdiers 
to  the  lower  gateway,  and  placed  within  the  prison 
chamber. 


366 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHAT  PASSED  BETWEEN  ANNE  BOLEYN  AND  THE  DUKE  OP 

SUFFOLK  ; AND  HOW  HERNE  THE  HUNTER  APPEARED  TO 

HER  IN  THE  ORATORY. 

For  some  hours,  Anne  Boleyn’s  attendants  were 
alarmed  for  her  reason,  and  there  seemed  good  grounds 
for  the  apprehension — so  wildly  and  incoherently  did  she 
talk,  and  so  violently  comport  herself — she  who  was 
usually  so  gentle — now  weeping  as  if  her  soul  would 
pass  away  in  tears — now  breaking  into  fearful  hysterical 
laughter.  It  was  a piteous  sight,  and  deeply  moved  all 
who  witnessed  it.  But  towards  evening  she  became 
calmer,  and  desired  to  be  left  by  herself.  Her  wish  being 
complied  with,  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  besought 
Heaven’s  forgiveness  for  her  manifold  offenses. 

“May  my  earthly  sufferings,”  she  cried,  “avail  me 
hereafter,  and  may  my  blood  wash  out  my  guilt ! I feel 
the  enormity  of  my  offense,  and  acknowledge  the  justice 
of  my  punishment.  Pardon  me,  oh ! injured  Catherine — 
pardon  me,  I implore  thee ! Thou  seest  in  me  the  most 
abject,  pitiable  woman,  in  the  whole  realm ! Over- 
thrown, neglected,  despised — about  to  die  a shameful 
death — what  worse  can  befall  me ! Thine  anguish  was 
great,  but  it  was  never  sharpened  by  remorse  like  mine. 
Oh  ! that  I could  live  my  life  over  again ! I would  resist 
all  the  dazzling  temptations  I have  yielded  to — above  all, 
I would  not  injure  thee.  Oh,  that  I had  resisted  Henry’s 
love — his  false  vows — his  fatal  lures ! But  it  is  useless 
to  repine.  I have  acted  wrongfully, — and  must  pay  the 
penalty  of  my  crime.  May  my  tears,  my  penitence,  my 
blood,  operate  as  an  atonement,  and  procure  me  pardon 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  367 

from  the  Merciful  Judge  before  whom  I shall  shortly 
appear ! ” 

In  such  prayers  and  lamentations  she  passed  more  than 
an  hour,  when  her  attendants  entered  to  inform  her  that 
the  Duke  of  Suffolk  and  the  Lords  Audley  and  Cromwell 
were  without,  and  desired  to  see  her.  She  immediately 
went  forth  to  them. 

u We  are  come  to  acquaint  you,  madam,”  said  Suffolk, 
“ that  you  will  be  removed,  at  an  early  hour  to-morrow 
morning,  to  the  Tower,  there  to  abide  during  the  king’s 
pleasure.” 

“ If  the  king  will  have  it  so,  my  lords,”  she  replied,  “ I 
must  needs  go — but  I protest  my  innocence,  and  will  pro- 
test it  to  the  last.  I have  ever  been  a faithful  and  loyal 
consort  to  his  highness,  and  though  I may  not  have  de- 
meaned myself  to  him  so  humbly  and  gratefully  as  I ought 
to  have  done — seeing  how  much  I owe  him — yet  I have 
lacked  nothing  in  affection  and  duty.  I have  had  jealous 
fancies  and  suspicions  of  him,  especially  of  late,  and  have 
troubled  him  with  them,  but  I pray  his  forgiveness  for  my 
folly,  which  proceeded  from  too  much  regard,  and  if  I am 
acquitted  of  my  present  charge,  I will  offend  him  so  no 
more.” 

“ We  will  report  what  you  say  to  the  king,”  rejoined 
Suffolk,  gravely.  “ But  we  are  bound  to  add,  that  his 
highness  does  not  act  on  mere  suspicion ; the  proofs  of 
your  guilt  being  strong  against  you.” 

“ There  can  be  no  such  proofs  ! ” cried  Anne,  quickly. 
“ Who  are  my  accusers — and  what  do  they  state  ? ” 

“You  are  charged  with  conspiring  against  the  king’s 
life,  and  dishonoring  his  bed,”  replied  Suffolk,  sternly. 
“Your  accusers  will  appear  in  due  season.” 

“ They  are  base  creatures  suborned  for  the  purpose ! ” 
cried  Anne.  “ No  loyal  person  would  so  forswear  him- 
self.” 


368 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


44  Time  will  show  you  who  they  are,  madam,”  said  Suf- 
folk. “ But  having  now  answered  all  your  questions,  I 
pray  you,  permit  us  to  retire.” 

“ Shall  I not  see  the  king  before  I am  taken  to  the 
Tower  ? ” said  Anne,  upon  whom  the  terror  of  her  situa- 
tion rushed  with  new  force. 

64  His  highness  has  quitted  the  castle,”  replied  Suffolk, 
46  and  there  is  no  likelihood  of  his  return  to-night.” 

“You  tell  me  so  to  deceive  me,”  cried  Anne.  “Let 
me  see  him — let  me  throw  myself  at  his  feet.  I can 
convince  him  of  my  innocence — can  move  him  to  com- 
passion. Let  me  see  him,  I implore  of  you — I charge 
you.” 

44 1 swear  to  you,  madam,  that  the  king  has  departed 
for  Hampton  Court,”  replied  Suffolk. 

44  Then  take  me  to  him  there,  under  strong  guard,  or  as 
secretly  as  you  please  ! ” she  cried,  passionately.  44 1 will 
return  with  you  instantly  if  I am  unsuccessful.” 

44  Were  I to  comply  with  your  request,  it  would  be 
fruitless,  madam,”  replied  Suffolk  ; 44  the  king  would  not 
see  you.” 

44  Oh,  Suffolk  ! ” cried  Anne,  prostrating  herself  before 
him,  44 1 have  shown  you  many  kindnesses  in  my  season  of 
power,  and  have  always  stood  your  friend  with  the  king. 
Do  me  this  favor  now.  I will  never  forget  it.  Introduce 
me  to  the  king.  I am  sure  I can  move  his  heart,  if  I can 
only  see  him.” 

44  It  would  cost  me  my  head,  madam,”  said  the  duke, 
in  an  inexorable  tone.  44  Rise,  I pray  you.” 

44  You  are  more  cruel  than  the  king,”  said  Anne,  obey- 
ing. 44  And  now,  my  lords,”  she  continued,  with  more 
composure  and  dignity,  44  since  you  refuse  my  last  request, 
and  plainly  prove  to  me  the  sort  of  justice  I may  expect, 
I will  not  detain  you  longer.  I shall  be  ready  to  attend 
you  to  the  Tower  to-morrow.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  369 

“ The  barge  will  proceed  an  hour  before  dawn,”  said 
Suffolk. 

“ Must  I then  go  by  water  ? ” asked  Anne. 

“ Such  are  the  king’s  commands,”  replied  Suffolk. 

“It  is  no  matter,”  she  rejoined.  “I  shall  be  ready 
when  you  will,  for  I shall  not  retire  to  rest  during  the 
night.” 

Upon  this,  Suffolk  and  the  others  withdrew,  and  Anne 
again  retired  to  the  oratory. 

She  remained  alone,  brooding,  in  a state  of  indescrib- 
able anguish,  upon  the  probable  fate  awaiting  her,  when, 
all  at  once,  raising  her  eyes,  she  beheld  a tall,  dark  figure, 
near  the  arras. 

Even  in  the  gloom,  she  recognized  Herne  the  Hunter, 
and  with  difficulty  repressed  a scream. 

“ Be  silent ! ” cried  Herne,  with  an  emphatic  gesture. 
“ I am  come  to  deliver  you.” 

Anne  could  not  repress  a joyful  cry. 

“Not  so  loud,”  rejoined  Herne,  “or  you  will  alarm 
your  attendants.  I will  set  you  free  on  certain  condi- 
tions.” 

“ Ah ! conditions  ! ” exclaimed  Anne,  recoiling — “ if 
they  are  such  as  will  affect  my  eternal  welfare,  I cannot 
accept  them.” 

“You  will  repent  it  when  it  is  too  late,”  replied  Herne. 
“ Once  removed  to  the  Tower,  I can  no  longer  aid  you. 
My  power  extends  only  to  the  forest  and  the  castle.” 

“Will  you  take  me  to  the  king  at  Hampton  Court?” 
said  Anne. 

“ It  would  be  useless,”  replied  Herne.  “ I will  only  do 
what  I have  stated.  If  you  fly  with  me,  you  can  never 
appear  again  as  Anne  Boleyn.  Sir  Henry  Norris  shall  be 
set  free  at  the  same  time,  and  you  shall  both  dwell  with 
me  in  the  forest.  Come  ! ” 

“ I cannot  go,”  said  Anne,  holding  back ; “ it  were  to  fly 


370 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


to  a worse  danger.  I may  save  my  soul  now,  but  if  I 
embrace  your  offer,  I am  lost  forever.” 

Herne  laughed  derisively. 

“ You  need  have  no  fear  on  that  score,”  he  said. 

“ I will  not  trust  you,”  replied  Anne.  “ I have  yielded 
to  temptation  already,  and  am  now  paying  the  penalty 
of  it.” 

“You  are  clinging  to  the  crown,”  said  Herne,  “ because 
you  know  that  by  this  step  you  will  irrecoverably  lose  it. 
And  you  fancy  that  some  change  may  yet  operate  to  your 
advantage  with  the  king.  It  is  a vain,  delusive  hope.  If 
you  leave  this  castle  for  the  Tower,  you  will  perish  igno- 
miniously  on  the  block.” 

“ What  will  be,  must  be ! ” replied  Anne.  “ I will  not 
save  myself  in  the  way  you  propose.” 

“ Norris  will  say,  and  with  reason,  that  you  love  him 
not,”  cried  Herne. 

“ Then  he  will  wrong  me,”  replied  Anne ; “ for  I do  love 
him.  But  of  what  account  were  a few  years  of  fevered 
happiness  compared  with  endless  torture ! ” 

“ I will  befriend  you  in  spite  of  yourself,”  vociferated 
Herne,  seizing  her  arm  ; “ you  shall  go  with  me  ! ” 

“ I will  not,”  said  Anne,  falling  on  her  knees.  “ Oh, 
Father  of  Mercy  ! ” she  cried,  energetically,  “ deliver  me 
from  this  fiend ! ” 

“Take  your  fate,  then!”  rejoined  Herne,  dashing  her 
furiously  backwards. 

And  when  her  attendants,  alarmed  by  the  sound,  rushed 
into  the  chamber,  they  found  her  stretched  on  the  floor 
in  a state  of  insensibility. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


371 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW  HERNE  APPEARED  TO  HENRY  IN  THE  HOME  PARK. 

On  that  same  night,  at  a late  hour,  a horseman,  mounted 
on  a powerful  steed,  entered  the  eastern  side  of  the  Home 
Park,  and  stationed  himself  beneath  the  trees.  He  had 
not  been  there  long,  when  the  castle  clock  tolled  forth  the 
hour  of  midnight,  and  ere  the  deep  strokes  died  away,  a 
second  horseman  was  seen  galloping  across  the  moonlit 
glade  towards  him. 

“ Has  all  been  done  as  I directed,  * Suffolk  ? ” he  de- 
manded, as  the  newcomer  approached  him. 

44  It  has,  my  liege,”  replied  the  duke.  44  The  queen  is 
imprisoned  within  her  chamber,  and  will  be  removed,  at 
early  dawn,  to  the  Tower.” 

44  You  had  better  start  in  an  hour  from  this  time,”  said 
the  king.  44  It  is  a long  passage  by  water,  and  I am 
anxious  to  avoid  all  chance  of  attempt  at  rescue.” 

44  Your  wishes  shall  be  obeyed,”  replied  the  duke. 
44  Poor  soul ! her  grief  was  most  agonizing,  and  I had  much 
ado  to  maintain  my  composure.  She  implored,  in  the 
most  passionate  maimer,  to  be  allowed  to  see  your  high- 
ness before  her  removal.  I told  her  it  was  impossible  ; 
and  that  even  if  you  were  at  the  castle,  you  would  not 
listen  to  her  supplications.” 

44 You  did  right,”  rejoined  Henry;  44 1 will  never  see 
her  more, — not  that  I fear  being  moved  by  her  prayers, 
but  that,  knowing  how  deceitful  and  faithless  she  is,  I 
loathe  to  look  upon  her.  What  is  expressed  upon  the 
matter  by  the  household  ? Speak  frankly  ! ” 

44  Frankly,  then,”  replied  the  duke,  44  your  highness’s 


372 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


proceedings  are  regarded  as  harsh  and  unjustifiable.  The 
general  opinion  is,  that  you  only  desire  to  remove  Anne 
to  make  way  for  Mistress  Jane  Seymour.” 

“ Ha  ! they  talk  thus,  do  they  ? ” cried  the  king.  “ I 
will  silence  their  saucy  prating  ere  long.  Tell  all  who 
venture  to  speak  to  you  on  the  subject  that  I have  long 
suspected  the  queen  of  a secret  liking  for  Norris,  but  that 
I determined  to  conceal  my  suspicions  till  I found  I had 
good  warrant  for  them.  That  occurred,  as  you  know, 
some  weeks  ago.  However,  I awaited  a pretext  for  pro- 
ceeding against  them,  and  it  was  furnished  by  their  own 
imprudence  to-day.  Convinced  that  something  would 
occur,  I had  made  my  preparations ; nor  was  I deceived. 
You  may  add,  also,  that  not  until  my  marriage  is  invali- 
dated, Anne’s  offspring  illegitimatized,  and  herself  be- 
headed, shall  I consider  the  foul  blot  upon  my  name 
removed.” 

“Has  your  majesty  any  further  commands?”  said 
Suffolk.  “I  saw  Norris  in  his  prison  before  I rode  forth 
to  you.” 

“ Let  him  be  taken  to  the  Tower,  under  a strong  escort, 
at  once,”  said  Henry.  “ Lord  Rochford,  I suppose,  has 
already  been  removed  there  ? ” 

“ He  has,”  replied  the  duke.  “ Shall  I attend  your 
majesty  to  your  followers  ? ” 

“ It  is  needless,”  replied  the  king.  “ They  are  waiting 
for  me,  close  at  hand,  at  the  foot  of  Datchet-bridge. 
Farewell,  my  good  brother ; look  well  to  your  prisoners. 
I shall  feel  more  easy  when  Anne  is  safely  lodged  within 
the  Tower.” 

So  saying,  he  wheeled  round,  and  striking  spurs  into 
his  steed,  dashed  through  the  trees,  while  the  duke  rode 
back  to  the  castle. 

Henry  had  not  proceeded  far,  when  a horseman, 
mounted  on  a sable  steed,  emerged  from  the  thicket,  and 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  373 

galloped  up  to  him.  The  wild  attire  and  antlered  helm 
of  this  personage  proclaimed  the  forest  fiend. 

“ Ah,  thou  here,  demon  ! ” cried  the  king,  his  lion  nature 
overmastered  by  superstitious  fear  for  a moment.  “ What 
wouldst  thou  ? ” 

“ You  are  on  the  eve  of  committing  a great  crime,”  re- 
plied Herne ; “ and  I told  you  that  at  such  times  I would 
always  appear  to  you.” 

“To  administer  justice  is  not  to  commit  crime,”  re- 
joined the  king.  “ Anne  Boleyn  deserves  her  fate.” 

“ Think  not  to  impose  on  me  as  you  have  imposed  on 
Suffolk  ! ” cried  Herne,  with  a derisive  laugh.  “ I know 
your  motives  better,  I know  you  have  no  proof  of  her 
guilt,  and  that  in  your  heart  of  hearts  you  believe  her 
innocent.  But  you  destroy  her  because  you  would  wed 
Jane  Seymour!  We  shall  meet  again  ere  long — ho!  ho  ! 
ho!” 

And  giving  the  rein  to  his  steed,  he  disappeared  among 
the  trees. 


371 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  SIGNAL  GUN. 

Anne  Boleyn’s  arraignment  took  place  in  the  great 
hall  of  the  White  Tower,  on  the  16th  of  May,  before  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  was  created  lord  high  steward  for 
the  occasion,  and  twenty-six  peers.  The  duke  had  his 
seat  under  a canopy  of  state,  and  beneath  him  sat  the 
Earl  of  Surrey  as  deputy  earl-marshal. 

Notwithstanding  an  eloquent  and  impassioned  defense, 
Anne  was  found  guilty  ; and  having  been  required  to  lay 
aside  her  crown  and  the  other  insignia  of  royalty,  was 
condemned  to  be  burned  or  beheaded  at  the  king’s  pleasure. 

On  the  following  day,  she  was  summoned  to  the 
archiepiscopal  palace  at  Lambeth,  whither  she  was  pri- 
vately conveyed ; and  her  marriage  with  the  king  was 
declared  by  Cranmer  to  be  null  and  void,  and  to  have  al- 
ways been  so.  Death  by  the  axe  was  the  doom  awarded 
to  her  by  the  king,  and  the  day  appointed  for  the  execu- 
tion was  Friday,  the  19th  of  May,  at  the  hour  of  noon. 

Leaving  the  conduct  of  the  fatal  ceremony  to  the  Duke 
of  Suffolk,  who  had  orders  to  have  a signal  gun  fired  from 
the  summit  of  the  White  Tower,  which  was  to  be  an- 
swered from  various  points,  when  all  was  over,  Henry 
repaired  to  Windsor  Castle  on  the  evening  of  Thursday. 
Before  this,  he  had  formally  offered  his  hand  to  Jane 
Seymour ; and  while  the  unfortunate  queen  was  languish- 
ing within  the  Tower,  he  was  basking  in  the  smiles  of 
his  new  mistress,  and  counting  the  hours  till  he  could 
make  her  his  own.  On  the  Tuesday  before  the  execution, 
Jane  Seymour  retired  to  her  father’s  mansion,  Wolff 
Hall,  in  Wiltshire,  where  preparations  were  made  for  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  375 

marriage,  which  it  was  arranged  should  take  place  there 
in  private  on  the  Saturday. 

On  arriving  at  the  castle,  Henry  gave  out  that  he  should 
hunt  on  the  following  morning  in  the  Great  Park,  and 
retired  to  his  closet.  But  he  did  not  long  remain  there, 
and  putting  on  the  garb  of  a yeoman  of  the  guard,  de- 
scended by  the  narrow  flight  of  steps  (already  mentioned 
as  occupying  the  same  situation  as  the  existing  Hundred 
Steps),  to  the  town,  and  proceeded  to  the  Garter, 
where  he  found  several  guests  assembled,  discussing  the 
affairs  of  the  day,  and  Bryan  Bowntance’s  strong  ale  at 
the  same  time.  Amongst  the  number  were,  the  Duke  of 
Shoreditch,  Paddington,  Hector  Cutbeard,  and  Kit  Coo. 
At  the  moment  of  the  king’s  entrance,  they  were  talking 
of  the  approaching  execution. 

“ Oh  ! the  vanity  of  worldly  greatness ! ” exclaimed 
Bryan,  lifting  up  his  hands.  “ Only  seven  years  ago,  last 
Saint  George’s  day,  this  lovely  queen  first  entered  the 
castle  with  the  king,  amid  pomp,  and  splendor,  and  power, 
and  with  a long  life,  apparently,  of  happiness  before  her. 
And  now  she  is  condemned  to  die ! ” 

“ But  if  she  has  played  the  king  false,  she  deserves  her 
doom  ! ” replied  Shoreditch.  “ I would  behead  my  own 
wife  if  she  served  me  the  same  trick — that  is,  if  I could.” 

“ You  do  right  to  say  ‘if  you  could,”’  rejoined  Pad- 
dington. “ The  beheading  a wife  is  a royal  privilege,  and 
cannot  be  enjoyed  by  a subject.” 

“ Marry,  I wonder  how  the  king  could  prefer  Mistress 
Jane  Seymour,  for  my  part ! ” said  Hector  Cutbeard. 
“To  my  thinking  she  is  not  to  be  compared  with  Queen 
Anne.” 

“ She  has  a lovely  blue  eye,  and  a figure  as  straight  as 
an  arrow,”  returned  Shoreditch.  “ How  say  you,  master  ? ” 
he  added,  turning  to  the  king.  “ What  think  you  of 
Mistress  Jane  Seymour?” 


376 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


“ That  she  is  passably  fair,  friend,”  replied  Henry. 

“ But  how  as  compared  with  the  late — that  is,  the 
present  queen  ; for,  poor  soul ! she  has  yet  some  hours  to 
live  ! ” rejoined  Shoreditch.  “ How,  as  compared  with 
her?” 

“Why,  I think  Jane  Seymour  the  more  lovely,  un- 
doubtedly,” replied  Henry,  “ But  I may  be  prejudiced.” 

“ Not  in  the  least,  friend,”  said  Cutbeard.  “ You  but 
partake  of  your  royal  master’s  humor.  Jane  Seymour 
is  beautiful,  no  doubt ; and  so  was  Anne  Boleyn.  Marry ! 
we  shall  see  many  fair  queens  on  the  throne.  The  royal 
Henry  has  good  taste  and  good  management.  He  sets 
his  subjects  a rare  example,  and  shows  them  how  to  get 
rid  of  troublesome  wives.  We  shall  all  divorce,  or  hang 
our  spouses,  when  we  get  tired  of  them.  I almost  wish 
I was  married  myself,  that  I might  try  the  experiment — 
ha ! ha ! ” 

“Well,  here’s  the  king’s  health!”  cried  Shoreditch; 
“ and  wishing  him  as  many  wives  as  he  may  desire. 
What  say  you,  friend?”  he  added,  turning  to  Henry. 
“ Will  you  not  drink  that  toast?  ” 

“ That  will  I,”  replied  Henry ; “ but  I fancy  the  king 
will  be  content  for  the  present  with  Mistress  Jane  Sey- 
mour.” 

“ For  the  present,  no  doubt,”  said  Hector  Cutbeard ; 
“ but  the  time  will  come — and  ere  long — when  Jane  will 
be  as  irksome  to  him  as  Anne  is  now.” 

“ Ah ! God’s  death,  knave  ! darest  thou  say  so  ? ” cried 
Henry,  furiously. 

“ Why,  I have  said  nothing  treasonable,  I hope,”  re- 
joined Cutbeard,  turning  pale.  “ I only  wish  the  king  to 
be  happy  in  his  own  way  ; and,  as  he  seems  to  delight  in 
change  of  wives,  I pray  that  he  may  have  it  to  his  heart’s 
content.” 

“ A fair  explanation,”  replied  Henry,  laughing. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


377 


“ Let  me  give  a health,  my  masters ! ” cried  a tall 
archer,  whom  no  one  had  hitherto  noticed,  rising  in  one 
corner  of  the  room.  “ It  is — The  headsman  of  Calais,  and 
may  he  do  his  work  featly  to-morrow ! 55 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! a good  toast,”  cried  Hector  Cut- 
beard. 

“ Seize  him  who  has  proposed  it ! ” cried  the  king, 
rising ; “ it  is  Herne  the  Hunter  ! ” 

“ I laugh  at  your  threats  here  as  elsewhere,  Harry,” 
cried  Herne.  “ We  shall  meet  to-morrow.” 

And  flinging  the  horn- cup  in  the  face  of  the  man  before 
him,  he  sprang  through  an  open  window  at  the  back,  and 
disappeared. 

Both  Cutbeard  and  Shoredith  were  much  alarmed  lest 
the  freedom  of  their  expressions  should  be  taken  in  um- 
brage by  the  king ; but  he  calmed  their  fears  by  bestow- 
ing a good-humored  buffet  on  the  cheek  of  the  latter  of 
them,  and  quitting  the  hostel,  returned  to  the  castle  by 
the  same  way  he  had  left  it. 

On  the  following  morning,  about  ten  o’clock,  he  rode 
into  the  Great  Park,  attended  by  a numerous  train.  His 
demeanor  was  moody  and  stern,  and  a general  gloom 
pervaded  the  company.  Keeping  on  the  western  side 
of  the  park,  the  party  crossed  Cranbourne  Chase ; but 
though  they  encountered  several  fine  herds  of  deer,  the 
king  gave  no  orders  to  uncouple  the  hounds. 

At  last,  they  arrived  at  that  part  of  the  park  where 
Sand-pit  Gate  is  now  situated,  and  pursuing  a path 
bordered  by  noble  trees,  a fine  buck  was  suddenly  un- 
harbored, upon  which  Henry  gave  orders  to  the  hunts- 
men and  others  to  follow  him,  adding  that  he  himself 
should  proceed  to  Snow  Hill,  where  they  would  find  him 
an  hour  hence. 

All  understood  why  the  king  wished  to  be  alone,  and 
for  what  purpose  he  was  about  to  repair  to  the  eminence 


378 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


in  question,  and  therefore,  without  a word,  the  whole  com- 
pany started  off  in  the  chase. 

Meanwhile,  the  king  rode  slowly  through  the  woods, 
often  pausing  to  listen  to  the  distant  sounds  of  the  hunt- 
ers, and  noticing  the  shadows  on  the  greensward  as  they 
grew  shorter,  and  proclaimed  the  approach  of  noon.  At 
length,  he  arrived  at  Snow  Hill,  and  stationed  himself 
beneath  the  trees  on  its  summit. 

From  this  spot  a magnificent  view  of  the  castle,  tower- 
ing over  its  pomp  of  woods,  now  covered  with  foliage  of 
the  most  vivid  green,  was  commanded.  The  morning 
was  bright  and  beautiful;  the  sky  cloudless;  and  a 
gentle  rain  had  fallen  overnight,  which  had  tempered  the 
air,  and  freshened  the  leaves  and  the  greensward.  The 
birds  were  singing  blithely  in  the  trees,  and  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill  couched  a herd  of  deer.  All  was  genial  and 
delightful,  breathing  of  tenderness  and  peace,  and  cal- 
culated to  soften  the  most  obdurate  heart. 

The  scene  was  not  without  its  effect  upon  Henry ; 
but  a fierce  tumult  raged  within  his  breast.  He  fixed 
his  eyes  on  the  Round  Tower,  which  was  distinctly  visible, 
and  from  which  he  expected  the  signal,  and  then  tried 
to  peer  into  the  far  horizon.  But  he  could  discern  noth- 
ing. A cloud  passed  over  the  sun,  and  cast  a momentary 
gloom  over  the  smiling  landscape.  At  the  same  time, 
Henry’s  fancy  was  so  powerfully  excited,  that  he  fancied 
he  could  behold  the  terrible  tragedy  enacting  at  the 
Tower. 

“ She  is  now  issuing  forth  into  the  green  in  the  front 
of  Saint  Peter’s  Chapel,”  said  Henry  to  himself.  “ I can 
see  her  as  distinctly  as  if  I were  there.  Ah ! how  beauti- 
ful she  looks — and  how  she  moves  all  hearts  to  pity. 
Suffolk,  Richmond,  Cromwell,  and  the  Lord  Mayor,  are 
there  to  meet  her.  She  takes  leave  of  her  weeping  at- 
tendants— she  mounts  the  steps  of  the  scaffold  firmly 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


379 


— she  looks  around,  and  addresses  the  spectators.  How 
silent  they  are,  and  how  clearly  and  musically  her  voice 
sounds.  She  blesses  me ! I hear  it — I feel  it  here.  Now 
she  disrobes  herself,  and  prepares  for  the  fatal  axe.  It  is 
wielded  by  the  skilful  executioner  of  Calais,  and  he  is 
now  feeling  its  edge.  Now  she  takes  leave  of  her  dames, 
and  bestows  a parting  gift  on  each.  Again  she  kneels 
and  prays.  She  rises.  The  fatal  moment  is  at  hand. 
Even  now  she  retains  her  courage — she  approaches  the 
block,  and  places  her  head  upon  it.  The  axe  is  raised — 
ha!” 

The  exclamation  was  occasioned  by  a flash  of  fire  from 
the  battlements  of  the  Round  Tower,  followed  by  a vol- 
ume of  smoke,  and,  in  another  second,  the  deep  boom  of 
a gun  was  heard. 

At  the  very  moment  that  the  flash  was  seen,  a wild 
figure,  mounted  on  a coal-black  steed,  galloped  from  out 
the  wood,  and  dashed  towards  Henry,  whose  horse  reared 
and  plunged  as  he  passed. 

“ There  spoke  the  death-knell  of  Anne  Boleyn ! ” cried 
Herne,  regarding  Henry,  sternly,  and  pointing  to  the 
Round  Tower.  “ The  bloody  deed  is  done,  and  thou  art 
free  to  wed  once  more.  Away  to  Wolff  Hall,  and  bring 
thy  new  consort  to  Windsor  Castle ! ” 

ZEbus  ends  tbe  jflftb  JSooft  of  tbe  Chronicle  of 
ZPdUnbsot  Castle. 


Booft  tbe  Sixth 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  CASTLE. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


383 


CHAPTER  I. 

COMPRISING  THE  FIRST  TWO  EPOCHS  IN  THE  HISTORY  OF 
WINDSOR  CASTLE. 

Amid  the  gloom  hovering  over  the  early,  history  of 
Windsor  Castle  appear  the  mighty  phantoms  of  the  re- 
nowned King  Arthur  and  his  knights,  for  whom,  it  is 
said,  Merlin  reared  a magic  fortress  upon  its  heights,  in  a 
great  hall  whereof,  decorated  with  trophies  of  war  and  of 
the  chase,  was  placed  the  famous  Round  Table.  But  if 
the  antique  table  is  now  worn  out,  and  no  longer  part  of 
our  faith,  it  is  pleasant  at  least  to  record  it,  and,  surren- 
dering ourselves  for  awhile  to  the  sway  of  fancy,  to  con- 
jure up  the  old  enchanted  castle  on  the  hill,  to  people  its 
courts  with  warlike  and  lovely  forms,  its  forests  with 
fays  and  giants,  and  its  stream  with  beauteous  and  benig- 
nant sprites. 

Windsor,  or  Wyndleshore,  so  called  from  the  winding 
banks  of  the  river  flowing  past  it,  was  the  abode  of  the 
ancient  Saxon  monarchs;  and  a legend  is  related  by  Wil- 
lian  of  Malmesbury,  of  a woodman  named  Wulwin,  who 
being  stricken  with  blindness,  and  having  visited  eighty- 
seven  churches  and  vainly  implored  their  tutelary  saints 
for  relief,  was  at  last  restored  to  sight  by  the  touch  of 
Edward  the  Confessor,  who  further  enhanced  the  boon 
by  making  him  keeper  of  his  palace  at  Windsor.  But 
though  this  story  may  be  doubted,  it  is  certain,  that  the 
pious  king  above  mentioned  granted  Windsor  to  the  abbot 
and  monks  of  Saint  Peter  at  Westminster,  “ for  the  hope 
of  eternal  reward,  the  remission  of  his  sins,  the  sins  of 
his  father,  mother,  and  all  his  ancestors,  and  to  the  praise 


384 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


of  Almighty  God,  as  a perpetual  endowment  and  inher- 
itance.” 

But  the  royal  donation  did  not  long  remain  in  the 
hands  of  the  priesthood.  Struck  by  the  extreme  beauty 
of  the  spot,  “ for  that  it  seemed  exceeding  profitable  and 
commodious,  because  situate  so  near  the  Thames,  the 
wood  fit  for  game,  and  many  other  particulars  lying  there, 
meet  and  necessary  for  kings, — yea,  a place  very  conven- 
ient for  his  reception,”  William  the  Conqueror  prevailed 
upon  Abbot  Edwin  to  accept  in  exchange  for  it  Waken- 
dune  and  Feringes,  in  Essex,  together  with  three  other 
tenements  in  Colchester ; and  having  obtained  possession 
of  the  coveted  hill,  he  forthwith  began  to  erect  a castle 
upon  it, — occupying  a space  of  about  half  a hide  of  land. 
Around  it,  he  formed  large  parks,  to  enable  him  to  pur- 
sue his  favorite  pastime  of  hunting  ; and  he  enacted  and 
enforced  severe  laws  for  the  preservation  of  the  game. 

As  devoted  to  the  chase  as  his  father,  William  Rufus 
frequently  hunted  in  the  forests  of  Windsor,  and  solem- 
nized some  of  the  festivals  of  the  church  in  the  castle. 

In  the  succeeding  reign — namely,  that  of  Henry  the 
First, — the  castle  was  entirely  rebuilt  and  greatly  en- 
larged— assuming  somewhat  of  the  character  of  a palatial 
residence,  having  before  been  little  more  than  a strong 
hunting-seat.  The  structure  then  erected,  in  all  probabil- 
ity, occupied  the  same  site  as  the  upper  and  lower  wards 
of  the  present  pile ; but  nothing  remains  of  it  except, 
perhaps,  the  keep,  and  of  that  little  beyond  its  form  and 
position.  In  1109,  Henry  celebrated  the  feast  of  Pente- 
cost with  great  state  and  magnificence  within  the  castle. 
In  1122,  he  there  espoused  his  second  wife,  Adelicia, 
daughter  of  Godfrey,  Duke  of  Louvaine ; and  failing  in 
obtaining  issue  by  her,  assembled  the  barons  at  Windsor, 
and  caused  them,  together  with  David,  King  of  Scotland, 
his  sister  Adela,  and  her  son  Stephen,  afterwards  King 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  385 

of  England,  to  do  homage  to  his  daughter  Maud,  widow 
of  the  Emperor  Henry  the  Fifth. 

Proof  that  Windsor  Castle  was  regarded  as  the  second 
fortress  in  the  realm  is  afforded  by  the  treaty  of  peace 
between  the  usurper  Stephen  and  the  Empress  Maud,  in 
which  it  is  coupled  with  the  Tower  of  London  under  the 
designation  of  Mota  de  Windsor.  At  the  signing  of  the 
treaty,  it  was  committed  to  the  custody  of  Richard  de 
Lucy,  who  was  continued  in  the  office  of  keeper  by  Henry 
the  Second. 

In  the  reign  of  this  monarch  many  repairs  were  made 
in  the  castle,  to  which  a vineyard  was  attached, — the  cul- 
tivation of  the  grape  being  at  this  time  extensively 
practised  throughout  England.  Strange  as  the  circum- 
stance may  now  appear,  Stow  mentions  that  vines  grew 
in  abundance  in  the  Home  Park  in  the  reign  of  Richard 
the  Second,  the  wine  made  from  them  being  consumed  at 
the  king’s  table,  and  even  sold. 

It  is  related  by  Fabian,  that  Henry,  stung  by  the  dis- 
obedience and  ingratitude  of  his  sons,  caused  an  allegori- 
cal picture  to  be  painted,  representing  an  old  eagle  assailed 
by  four  young  ones,  which  he  placed  in  one  of  the  cham- 
bers of  the  castle.  When  asked  the  meaning  of  the  device, 
he  replied,  “ I am  the  old  eagle,  and  the  four  eaglets  are 
my  sons,  who  cease  not  to  pursue  my  death.  The  youngest 
bird,  who  is  tearing  out  its  parent’s  eyes,  is  my  son  John, 
— my  youngest  and  best-loved  son,  and  who  yet  is  the 
most  eager  for  my  destruction.” 

On  his  departure  for  the  holy  wars,  Richard  Coeur  de 
Lion  entrusted  the  government  of  the  castle  to  Hugh  de 
Pudsey,  Bishop  of  Durham  and  Earl  of  Northumberland; 
but  a fierce  dispute  arising  between  the  warrior- prelate 
and  his  ambitious  colleague,  William  Longchamp,  Bishop 
of  Ely,  he  was  seized  and  imprisoned  by  the  latter,  and 
compelled  to  surrender  the  castle.  After  an  extraordinary 


386 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


display  of  ostentation,  Longcliamp  was  ousted  inliis  turn. 
On  the  arrival  of  the  news  of  Richard’s  capture  and  im- 
prisonment in  Austria,  the  castle  was  seized  by  Prince 
John ; hut  it  was  soon  afterwards  taken  possession  of  in 
the  king’s  behalf  by  the  barons,  and  consigned  to  the  cus- 
tody of  Eleanor,  the  queen-dowager. 

In  John’s  reign,  the  castle  became  the  scene  of  a foul 
and  terrible  event.  William  de  Braose,  a powerful  baron, 
having  offended  the  king,  his  wife,  Maud,  was  ordered  to 
deliver  up  her  son  as  a hostage  for  her  husband.  But 
instead  of  complying  with  the  injunction,  she  rashly 
returned  for  answer — “ that  she  would  not  entrust  her 
child  to  the  person  who  could  slay  his  own  nephew.” 
IJpon  which,  the  ruthless  king  seized  her  and  her  son, 
and  enclosing  them  in  a recess  in  the  wall  of  the  castle, 
built  them  up  within  it. 

Sorely  pressed  by  the  barons  in  1215,  John  sought 
refuge  within  the  castle,  and  in  the  same  year  signed  the 
two  charters,  Magna  Charta  and  Charta  de  Foresta,  at 
Runnymede — a plain  between  Windsor  and  Staines.  A 
curious  account  of  his  frantic  demeanor,  after  divesting 
himself  of  so  much  power  and  extending  so  greatly  the 
liberties  of  the  subject,  is  given  by  Holinshed  : — “ Having 
acted  so  far  contrary  to  his  mind,  the  king  was  right 
sorrowful  in  heart,  cursed  his  mother  that  bare  him,  and 
the  hour  in  which  he  was  born ; wishing  that  he  had  re- 
ceived death  by  violence  of  sword  or  knife  instead  of 
natural  nourishment.  He  whetted  his  teeth,  and  did  bite 
now  on  one  staff,  now  on  another,  as  he  walked,  and  oft 
brake  the  same  in  pieces  when  he  had  done,  and  with  such 
disordered  behavior  and  furious  gestures  he  uttered  his 
grief,  that  the  noblemen  very  well  perceived  the  inclina- 
tion of  his  inward  affection  concerning  these  things  before 
the  breaking-up  of  the  council,  and  therefore  sore  lamented 
the  state  of  the  realm,  guessing  what  would  follow  of  his 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


387 


impatience,  and  displeasant  taking  of  the  matter.”  The 
faithless  king  made  ail  attempt  to  regain  his  lost  power, 
and  war  breaking  out  afresh  in  the  following  year,  a 
numerous  army,  under  the  command  of  William  de 
Nivernois,  besieged  the  castle,  which  was  stoutly  defended 
by  Inglehard  de  Achie  and  sixty  knights.  The  barons, 
however,  learning  that  John  was  marching  through  Nor- 
folk and  Suffolk,  and  ravaging  the  country,  hastily  raised 
the  siege,  and  advanced  to  meet  him.  But  he  avoided 
them,  marched  to  Stamford  and  Lincoln,  and  from  thence 
towards  Wales.  On  his  return  from  this  expedition,  he 
was  seized  with  the  distemper  of  which  he  died. 

Henry  the  Third  was  an  ardent  encourager  of  architec- 
ture, and  his  reign  marks  the  second  great  epoch  in  the 
annals  of  the  castle.  In  1223,  eight  hundred  marks  were 
paid  to  Engelhard  de  Cygony,  constable  of  the  castle,  John 
le  Draper,  and  William,  the  clerk  of  Windsor,  masters  of 
the  works,  and  others,  for  repairs  and  works  within  the 
castle; — the  latter,  it  is  conjectured,  referring  to  the 
erection  of  a new  great  hall  within  the  lower  ward,  there 
being  already  a hall  of  small  dimensions  in  the  upper 
court.  The  windows  of  the  new  building  were  filled  with 
painted  glass,  and  at  the  upper  end,  upon  a raised  dais, 
was  a gilt  throne  sustaining  a statue  of  the  king  in  his 
robes.  Within  this  vast  and  richly  decorated  chamber, 
in  1240,  on  the  day  of  the  Nativity,  an  infinite  number 
of  poor  persons  were  collected  and  fed  by  the  king’s  com- 
mand. 

During  the  greater  part  of  Henry’s  long  and  eventful 
reign,  the  works  within  the  castle  proceeded  with  unabated 
activity.  Carpenters  were  maintained  on  the  royal  es- 
tablishment ; the  ditch  between  the  hall  and  the  lower 
ward  was  repaired ; a new  kitchen  was  built ; the  bridges 
were  repaired  with  timber  procured  from  the  neighboring 
forest ; certain  breaches  in  the  wall  facing  the  garden 


388 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


were  stopped;  the  fortifications  were  surveyed,  and  the 
battlements  repaired.  At  the  same  time,  the  queen’s 
chamber  was  painted  and  wainscoted,  and  iron  bars  were 
placed  before  the  windows  of  Prince  Edward’s  chamber. 
In  1240,  Henry  commenced  building  an  apartment  for 
his  own  use  near  the  wall  of  the  castle,  sixty  feet  long, 
and  twenty-eight  high  ; another  apartment  for  the  queen 
contiguous  to  it ; and  a chapel  seventy  feet  long,  and 
twenty-eight  feet  wide,  along  the  same  wall,  but  with  a 
grassy  space  between  it  and  the  royal  apartments.  The 
chapel,  as  appears  from  an  order  to  Walter  de  Grey,  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  had  a galilee  and  a cloister,  a lofty  wooden 
roof  covered  with  lead,  and  a stone  turret  in  front  hold- 
ing three  or  four  bells.  Withinside,  it  was  made  to  ap- 
pear like  stone- work  with  good  ceiling  and  painting,  and 
it  contained  four  gilded  images. 

This  structure  is  supposed  to  have  been  in  existence, 
under  the  designation  of  the  Old  College  Church,  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  by  whom 
it  was  pulled  down  to  make  way  for  the  tomb-house. 
Traces  of  its  architecture  have  been  discovered  by  diligent 
antiquarian  research  in  the  south  ambulatory  of  the 
Dean’s  Cloister,  and  in  the  door  behind  the  altar  in  Saint 
George’s  Chapel,  the  latter  of  which  is  conceived  to  have 
formed  the  principal  entrance  to  the  older  structure,  and 
has  been  described  as  exhibiting  “ one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful specimens  which  time  and  innovation  have  respected 
of  the  elaborate  ornamental  work  of  the  period.” 

In  1241,  Henry  commenced  operations  upon  the  out- 
works of  the  castle,  and  the  three  towers  on  the  western  side 
of  the  lower  ward — now  known  as  the  Curfew,  the  Garter, 
and  the  Salisbury  Towers — were  erected  by  him.  He 
also  continued  the  walls  along  the  south  side  of  the  lower 
ward,  traces  of  the  architecture  of  the  period  being  dis- 
coverable in  the  inner  walls  of  the  houses  of  the  alms- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


389 


knights  as  far  as  the  tower  now  bearing  his  name.  From 
thence,  it  is  concluded  that  the  ramparts  ran  along  the 
east  side  of  the  upper  ward  to  a tower  occupying  the  site 
of  the  Wykeham  or  Winchester  Tower. 

The  three  towers  at  the  west  end  of  the  lower  ward, 
though  much  dilapidated,  present  unquestionable  features 
of  the  architecture  of  the  thirteenth  century.  The  lower 
story  of  the  Curfew  Tower,  which  has  been  but  little 
altered,  consists  of  a large  vaulted  chamber,  twenty-two 
feet  wide,  with  walls  of  nearly  thirteen  feet  in  thickness, 
and  having  arched  recesses  terminated  by  loopholes.  The 
walls  are  covered  with  the  inscriptions  of  prisoners  who 
have  been  confined  within  it.  The  Garter  Tower,  though 
in  a most  ruinous  condition,  exhibits  high  architectural 
beauty  in  its  molded  arches  and  corbeled  passages. 
The  Salisbury  Tower  retains  only  externally,  and  on  the 
side  towards  the  town,  its  original  aspect.  The  remains 
of  a fourth  tower  are  discernible  in  the  Governor  of  the 
Alms-Kniglits’  Tower  ; and  Henry  the  Third’s  Tower,  as 
before  observed,  completes  what  remains  of  the  original 
chain  of  fortifications. 

On  the  24th  of  November,  1244,  Henry  issued  a writ 
enjoining  “ the  clerks  of  the  works  at  Windsor  to  work 
day  and  night  to  wainscot  the  high  chamber  upon  the 
wall  of  the  castle  near  our  chapel  in  the  upper  bailey,  so 
that  it  may  be  ready  and  properly  wainscoted  on  Friday 
next,  [the  24th  occurring  on  a Tuesday,  only  two  days 
were  allowed  for  the  task,]  when  we  come  there,  with 
boards  radiated  and  colored,  so  that  nothing  be  found 
reprehensible  in  that  wainscot ; and  also  to  make  at  each 
gable  of  the  said  chamber  one  giass  window,  on  the  out- 
side of  the  inner  window  of  each  gable,  so  that  when  the 
inner  window  shall  be  closed,  the  glass  windows  may  be 
seen  outside.” 

The  following  year  the  works  were  suspended,  but 


390 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


they  were  afterwards  resumed  and  continued,  with  few 
interruptions ; the  keep  was  new  constructed ; a stone 
bench  was  fixed  in  the  wall  near  the  grass-plot  by  the 
king’s  chamber ; a bridge  was  thrown  across  the  ditch  to 
the  king’s  garden,  which  lay  outside  the  walls,  a barbican 
was  erected,  to  which  a portcullis  was  subsequently  at- 
tached ; the  bridges  were  defended  by  strong  iron  chains ; 
the  old  chambers  in  the  upper  ward  were  renovated ; a 
conduit  and  lavatory  were  added;  and  a fountain  was 
constructed  in  the  garden. 

In  this  reign,  in  all  probability,  the  Norman  Tower, 
which  now  forms  a gateway  between  the  middle  and  the 
upper  ward,  was  erected.  This  tower,  at  present  allotted 
to  the  housekeeper  of  the  castle,  Lady  Mary  Fox,  was 
used  as  a prison-lodging  during  the  civil  wars  of  Charles 
the  First’s  time ; and  many  noble  and  gallant  captives 
have  left  mementos  of  their  loyalty  and  ill  fate  upon  its 
walls. 

In  1260,  Henry  received  a visit  at  Windsor  from  his 
daughter  Margaret,  and  her  husband,  Alexander  the 
Third,  King  of  Scotland.  The  queen  gave  birth  to  a 
daughter  during  her  stay  at  the  castle. 

In  1264,  during  the  contest  between  Henry  and  the 
barons,  the  valiant  Prince  Edward,  his  son,  returning 
from  a successful  expedition  into  Wales,  surprised  the 
citizens  of  London,  and  carrying  off  their  military  chest, 
in  which  was  much  treasure,  retired  to  Windsor  Castle, 
and  strongly  garrisoned  it.  The  queen  Eleanor,  his 
mother,  would  fain  have  joined  him  there,  but  she  was 
driven  back  by  the  citizens  at  London  Bridge,  and  com- 
pelled to  take  sanctuary  in  the  palace  of  the  Bishop  of 
London,  at  Saint  Paul’s. 

Compelled,  at  length,  to  surrender  the  castle  to  the 
barons,  and  to  depart  from  it  with  his  consort,  Eleanor  of 
Castile,  the  brave  prince  soon  afterwards  recovered  it, 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


391 


but  was  again  forced  to  deliver  it  up  to  Simon  de  Mont- 
ford,  Earl  of  Leicester,  who  appointed  Geoffrey  de  Langele 
governor.  But  though  frequently  wrested  from  him  at 
this  period,  Windsor  Castle  was  never  long  out  of  Henry’s 
possession ; and  in  1265,  the  chief  citizens  of  London  were 
imprisoned  till  they  had  paid  the  heavy  fine  imposed 
upon  them  for  their  adherence  to  Simon  de  Montford, 
who  had  been  just  before  slain  at  the  battle  of  Evesham. 

During  this  reign,  a terrific  storm  of  wind  and  thunder 
occurred,  which  tore  up  several  great  trees  in  the  park, 
shook  the  castle,  and  blew  down  a part  of  the  building  in 
which  the  queen  and  her  family  were  lodged,  but  happily 
without  doing  them  injury. 

Four  of  the  children  of  Edward  the  First,  who  was 
blessed  with  numerous  offspring,  were  born  at  Windsor ; 
and  as  he  frequently  resided  at  the  castle,  the  town  began 
to  increase  in  importance  and  consideration.  By  a 
charter  granted  in  1276,  it  was  created  a free  borough, 
and  various  privileges  were  conferred  on  its  inhabitants, 
Stow  tells  us  that,  in  1295,  “on  the  last  day  of  February, 
there  suddenly  arose  such  a fire  in  the  castle  of  Windsor 
that  many  offices  were  therewith  consumed,  and  many 
goodly  images,  made  to  beautify  the  buildings,  defaced 
and  deformed.” 

Edward  the  Second,  and  his  beautiful  but  perfidious 
queen,  Isabella  of  France,  made  Windsor  Castle  their 
frequent  abode;  and  here,  on  the  13th  day  of  November, 
1312,  at  forty  minutes  past  five  in  the  morning,  was  born 
a prince,  over  whose  nativity  the  wizard  Merlin  must 
have  presided.  Baptized  within  the  old  chapel  by  the 
name  of  Edward,  this  prince  became  afterwards  the  third 
monarch  of  the  name,  and  the  greatest,  and  was  also 
styled  from  the  place  of  his  birth,  Edward  of  Windsor. 


392 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

COMPRISING  THE  THIRD  GREAT  EPOCH  IN  THE  HISTORY  OF 

THE  CASTLE  ; — AND  SHOWING  HOW  THE  MOST  NOBLE 
ORDER  OF  THE  GARTER  WAS  INSTITUTED. 

Strongly  attached  to  the  place  of  his  birth,  Edward 
the  Third,  by  his  letters  patent,  dated  from  Westminster, 
in  the  twenty-second  year  of  his  reign,  new  founded  the 
ancient  chapel  established  by  Henry  the  First,  and  dedi- 
cated it  to  the  Virgin,  Saint  George  of  Cappadocia,  and 
Saint  Edward  the  Confessor ; ordaining  that  to  the  eight 
canons  appointed  by  his  predecessor,  there  should  be 
added  one  custos,  fifteen  more  canons,  and  twenty-four 
alms-knights ; the  whole  to  be  maintained  out  of  the 
revenues  with  which  the  chapel  was  to  be  endowed.  The 
institution  was  confirmed  by  Pope  Clement  the  Sixth,  by 
a bull  issued  at  Avignon,  the  13th  November,  1351. 

In  1349,  before  the  foundation  of  the  college  had  been 
confirmed,  as  above  related,  Edward  instituted  the  order 
of  the  Garter.  The  origin  of  this  illustrious  order  has 
been  much  disputed.  By  some  writers  it  has  been  as- 
cribed to  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion,  who  is  said  to  have 
girded  a leathern  band  round  the  legs  of  his  bravest 
knights  in  Palestine.  By  others  it  has  been  asserted  that 
it  arose  from  the  word  “ garter  ” having  been  used  as  a 
watchword  by  Edward  at  the  battle  of  Cressy.  Others 
again  have  stoutly  maintained  that  its  ring-like  form  bore 
mysterious  reference  to  the  Round  Table.  But  the  pop- 
ular legend,  to  which,  despite  the  doubts  thrown  upon  it, 
credence  still  attaches,  declares  its  origin  to  be  as  follows  : 
Joan,  Countess  of  Salisbury,  a beautiful  dame,  of  whom 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


393 


Edward  was  enamored,  while  dancing  at  a high  festival, 
accidentally  slipped  her  garter,  of  blue  embroidered  velvet. 
It  was  picked  up  by  her  royal  partner,  who,  noticing  the 
significant  looks  of  his  courtiers  on  the  occasion,  used  the 
words  to  them,  which  afterwards  became  the  motto  of 
the  order,  “ Honi  soit  qui  mal  y pense  ; ” adding,  that  “ in 
a short  time  they  should  see  that  garter  advanced  to  so 
high  honor  and  estimation,  as  to  account  themselves  happy 
to  wear  it. 

But  whatever  may  have  originated  the  order,  it  unques- 
tionably owes  its  establishment  to  motives  of  policy. 
Wise  as  valiant,  and  bent  upon  prosecuting  his  claim  to 
the  crown  of  France,  Edward,  as  a means  of  accomplish- 
ing his  object,  resolved  to  collect  beneath  his  standard 
the  best  knights  in  Europe,  and  to  lend  a color  to  the 
design,  he  gave  forth  that  he  intended  a restoration  of 
King  Arthur’s  Round  Table,  and  accordingly  commenced 
constructing  within  the  castle  a large  circular  building  of 
two  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  in  which  he  placed  a round 
table.  On  the  completion  of  the  work,  he  issued  proclama- 
tions throughout  England,  Scotland,  France,  Burgundy, 
Flanders,  Brabant,  and  the  Empire,  inviting  all  knights, 
desirous  of  approving  their  valor,  to  a solemn  feast  and 
jousts  to  be  holden  within  the  castle  of  Windsor,  on  Saint 
George’s  Day,  1345.  The  scheme  was  completely  suc- 
cessful. The  flower  of  the  chivalry  of  Europe — except- 
ing that  of  Philip  the  Sixth  of  France,  who,  seeing  through 
the  design,  interdicted  the  attendance  of  his  knights — 
were  present  at  the  tournament,  which  was  graced  by 
Edward  and  his  chief  nobles,  together  with  his  queen  and 
three  hundred  of  her  fairest  dames,  “ adorned  with  all 
imaginable  gallantry.”  At  this  chivalrous  convocation 
the  institution  of  the  order  of  the  Garter  was  arranged ; 
but  before  its  final  establishment  Edward  assembled  his 
principal  barons  and  knights,  to  determine  upon  the  reg- 


394 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


ulations,  when  it  was.  decided  that  the  number  should 
be  limited  to  twenty-six. 

The  first  installation  took  place  on  the  anniversary  of 
Saint  George,  the  patron  of  the  order,  1349,  when  the 
king,  accompanied  by  the  twenty-five  knights-companions, 
attired  in  gowns  of  russet,  with  mantles  of  fine  blue  wool- 
en cloth,  powdered  with  garters,  and  bearing  the  other 
insignia  of  the  order,  marched,  bareheaded,  in  solemn 
procession,  to  the  chapel  of  Saint  George,  then  recently 
rebuilt,  where  mass  was  performed  by  William  Edington, 
Bishop  of  Winchester,  after  which  they  partook  of  a mag- 
nificent banquet.  The  festivities  were  continued  for 
several  days.  At  the  jousts  held  on  this  occasion,  David, 
King  of  Scotland,  the  Lord  Charles  of  Blois,  and  Ralph, 
Earl  of  Eu  and  Guisnes,  and  constable  of  France,  to  whom 
the  chief  prize  of  the  day  was  adjudged,  with  others,  then 
prisoners,  attended.  The  harness  of  the  King  of  Scotland, 
embroidered  with  a pale  of  red  velvet,  and  beneath  it  a 
red  rose,  was  provided  at  Edward’s  own  charge.  This 
suit  of  armor  was,  until  a few  years  back,  preserved  in 
the  Round  Tower,  where  the  royal  prisoner  was  confined. 
Edward’s  device  was  a white  swan,  gorged  or,  with  the 
“ daring  and  inviting  ” motto, — 

1ba£  ba£  tbe  w^tbe  swan 
(Bob’s  soul  H am  tb£  man. 

The  insignia  of  the  order  in  the  days  of  its  founder 
were  the  garter,  mantle,  surcoat,  and  hood ; the  George 
and  collar  being  added  by  Henry  the  Eighth.  The  mantle, 
as  before  intimated,  was  originally  of  fine  blue  woolen 
cloth,  but  velvet,  lined  with  taffeta,  was  substituted  by 
Henry  the  Sixth,  the  left  shoulder  being  adorned  with 
the  arms  of  Saint  George,  embroidered  within  a garter. 
Little  is  known  of  the  materials  of  which  the  early  garter 
was  composed ; but  it  is  supposed  to  have  been  adorned 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


395 


with  gold,  and  fastened  with  a buokle  of  the  same  metal. 
The  modern  garter  is  of  blue  velvet,  bordered  with  gold 
wire,  and  embroidered  with  the  motto — “ Honi  soit  qid 
mal  y pense .”  It  is  worn  on  the  left  leg,  a little  below 
the  knee.  The  most  magnificent  garter  that  ever  graced 
a sovereign  was  that  presented  to  Charles  the  First  by 
Gustavus  Adolphus,  King  of  Sweden,  each  letter  in  the 
motto  of  which  was  composed  of  diamonds.  The  collar 
is  formed  of  pieces  of  gold  fashioned  like  garters,  with  a 
blue  enameled  ground.  The  letters  of  the  motto  are  in 
gold,  with  a rose  enameled  red  in  the  center  of  each 
garter.  From  the  collar  hangs  the  George,  an  ornament 
enriched  with  precious  stones,  and  displaying  the  figure 
of  the  Saint  encountering  the  dragon. 

The  officers  of  the  order  are,  the  prelate,  represented 
by  the  Bishop  of  Winchester;  the  chancellor,  by  the 
Bishop  of  Oxford;  the  registrar,  dean,  garter  king-at- 
arms,  and  the  usher  of  the  black  rod.  Among  the  foreign 
potentates  who  have  been  invested  with  the  order  are, 
eight  emperors  of  Germany ; two  of  Russia ; five  kings  of 
France;  three  of  Spain;  one  of  Aragon;  seven  of  Por- 
tugal ; one  of  Poland ; two  of  Sweden  ; six  of  Denmark ; 
two  of  Naples ; one  of  Sicily  and  Jerusalem;  one  of  Bohe- 
mia ; two  of  Scotland ; seven  princes  of  Orange ; and 
many  of  the  most  illustrious  personages  of  different  ages 
in  Europe. 

Truly  hath  the  learned  Selden  written,  “ that  the  order 
of  the  Garter  hath  not  only  precedency  of  antiquity  be- 
fore the  eldest  rank  of  honor  of  that  kind  anywhere  es- 
tablished, but  it  exceeds  in  majesty,  honor,  and  fame, 
all  chivalrous  orders  in  the  world.”  Well,  also,  hath 
glorious  Dryden,  in  the  “ Flower  and  the  Leaf,”  sung  the 
praises  of  the  illustrious  institution : — 

“ Behold  an  order  yet  of  newer  date, 

Doubling  their  number,  equal  in  their  state; 


396 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Our  England's  ornament,  the  crown's  defense, 

In  battle  brave,  protectors  of  their  prince ; 

Unchanged  by  fortune,  to  their  sovereign  true, 

For  which  their  manly  legs  are  bound  with  blue. 

These  of  the  Garter  call’d,  of  faith  unstain’d, 

In  fighting  fields  the  laurel  have  obtain’d, 

And  well  repaid  the  laurels  which  they  gain’d.,, 

In  1357,  John,  King  of  France,  defeated  at  the  battle  of 
Poitiers  by  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  was  brought  cap- 
tive to  Windsor ; and  on  the  festival  of  Saint  George  in 
the  following  year,  1358,  Edward  outshone  all  his  former 
splendid  doings  by  a tournament  which  he  gave  in  honor 
of  his  royal  prisoner.  Proclamation  having  been  made  as 
before,  and  letters  of  safe-conduct  issued,  the  nobles  and 
knighthood  of  Almayne,  Gascoigne,  Scotland,  and  other 
countries,  flocked  to  attend  it.  The  Queen  of  Scotland, 
Edward’s  sister,  was  present  at  the  jousts ; and  it  is  said 
that  John,  commenting  upon  the  splendor  of  the  spectacle, 
shrewdly  observed  “that  he  never  saw  or  knew  such 
royal  shows  and  feastings  without  some  after  reckon- 
ing.” The  same  monarch  replied  to  his  kingly  captor, 
who  sought  to  rouse  him  from  dejection,  on  another  occa- 
sion— “ Quomodo  cantabimus  canticum  in  terra  aliena ! ” 
That  his  works  might  not  be  retarded  for  want  of 
hands,  Edward,  in  the  twenty- fourth  year  of  his  reign, 
appointed  John  de  Sponlee  master  of  the  stonehewers, 
with  a power  not  only  u to  take  and  keep,  as  well  within 
the  liberties  as  without,  as  many  masons  and  other  artifi- 
cers as  were  necessary,  and  to  convey  them  to  Windsor, 
but  to  arrest  and  imprison  such  as  should  disobey  or  re- 
fuse ; with  a command  to  all  sheriffs,  mayors,  bailiffs,  etc., 
to  assist  him.”  These  powers  were  fully  acted  upon  at  a 
later  period,  when  some  of  the  workmen,  having  left  their 
employment,  were  thrown  into  Newgate ; while  the  place 
of  others,  who  had  been  carried  off  by  a pestilence  then 
raging  in  the  castle,  was  supplied  by  impressment. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


397 


In  1356,  William  of  Wykeham  was  constituted  super- 
intendent of  the  works,  with  the  same  powers  as  John  de 
Sponlee,  and  his  appointment  marks  an  important  era  in 
the  annals  of  the  castle.  Originally  secretary  to  Edward 
the  Third,  this  remarkable  man  became  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, and  prelate  of  the  Garter.  When  he  solicited 
the  bishopric,  it  is  said  that  Edward  told  him  he  was 
neither  a priest  nor  a scholar ; to  which  he  replied  that 
he  would  soon  be  the  one,  and  in  regard  to  the  other,  he 
would  make  more  scholars  than  all  the  Bishops  of  England 
ever  did.  He  made  good  his  word  by  founding  the  col- 
legiate school  at  Winchester,  and  erecting  ]NTew  College  at 
Oxford.  When  the  Winchester  Tower  was  finished,  he 
caused  the  words  Hoc  fecit  Wykeham,  to  be  carved 
upon  it;  and  the  king,  offended  at  his  presumption, 
Wykeham  turned  away  his  displeasure  by  declaring  that 
the  inscription  meant  that  the  castle  had  made  him , and 
not  that  he  had  made  the  castle.  It  is  a curious  coinci- 
dence, that  this  tower,  after  a lapse  of  four  centuries  and 
a half,  should  become  the  residence  of  an  architect  pos- 
sessing the  genius  of  Wykeham,  and  who,  like  him,  had 
rebuilt  the  kingly  edifice — Sir  Jeffry  Wyatville. 

William  of  Wykeham  retired  from  office,  loaded  with 
honors,  in  1362,  and  was  succeeded  by  William  de  Mulso. 
He  was  interred  in  the  cathedral  at  Winchester.  His 
arms  were  argent,  two  chevrons,  sable,  between  three 
roses,  gules,  with  the  motto — “ Manners  maketh  man.” 

In  1359,  Holinshed relates,  that  the  king  “set  workmen 
in  hand  to  take  down  much  old  buildings  belonging  to 
the  castle,  and  caused  divers  other  fine  and  sumptuous 
works  to  be  set  up  in  and  about  the  same  castle,  so  that 
almost  all  the  masons  and  carpenters  that  were  of  any 
account  in  the  land  were  sent  for  and  employed  about  the 
same  works.”  The  old  buildings  here  referred  to  were 


398 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


probably  the  remains  of  the  palace  and  the  keep  of  Henry 
the  First,  in  the  middle  ward. 

As  the  original  chapel,  dedicated  to  Saint  George,  was 
demolished  by  Edward  the  Fourth,  its  position  and  form 
cannot  be  clearly  determined.  But  a conjecture  has  been 
hazarded  that  it  occupied  the  same  ground  as  the  choir 
of  the  present  chapel,  and  extended  further  eastward. 
“ Upon  the  question  of  its  style,”  says  Mr.  Poynter,  from 
whose  valuable  account  of  the  castle  much  information 
has  been  derived,  “ there  is  the  evidence  of  two  fragments 
discovered  near  this  site,  a corbel  and  a piscina,  orna- 
mented with  foliage  strongly  characteristic  of  the  deco- 
rated English  Gothic,  and  indicating,  by  the  remains  of 
color  on  their  surfaces,  that  they  belonged  to  an  edifice 
adorned  in  the  polychromatic  style,  so  elaborately  de- 
veloped in  the  chapel  already  built  by  Edward  the  Third 
at  Westminster,” 

The  royal  lodgings,  Saint  George’s  Hall,  the  buildings 
on  the  east  and  north  sides  of  the  upper  ward,  the  Round 
Tower,  the  canons’  houses  in  the  lower  ward,  and  the 
whole  circumference  of  the  castle,  exclusive  of  the  towers 
erected  in  Henry  the  Third’s  reign,  were  now  built. 
Among  the  earlier  works  in  Edward’s  reign  is  the  Dean’s 
Cloister.  The  square  of  the  upper  ward,  added  by  this 
monarch,  occupied  a space  of  four  hundred  and  twenty 
feet,  and  encroached  somewhat  upon  the  middle  ward. 
Externally,  the  walls  presented  a grim,  regular  appear- 
ance, broken  only  by  the  buttresses,  and  offering  no 
other  apertures  than  the  narrow  loopholes  and  gateways. 
Some  traces  of  the  architecture  of  the  period  may  still  be 
discerned  in  the  archway  and  machecoulis  of  the  princi- 
pal gateway  adjoining  the  Round  Tower,  the  basement 
chamber  of  the  Devil  Tower,  or  Edward  the  Third’s 
Tower ; and  in  the  range  of  groined  and  four-centered 
vaulting,  extending  along  the  north  side  of  the  upper 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  399 

quadrangle,  from  the  kitchen  gateway  to  King  John’s 
Tower. 

In  1369,  Queen  Philippa,  consort  of  Edward  the  Third, 
breathed  her  last  in  Windsor  Castle. 

Richard  the  Second,  grandson  of  Edward  the  Third, 
frequently  kept  his  court  at  Windsor.  Here,  in  1382,  it 
was  determined  by  council  that  war  should  be  declared 
against  France ; and  here,  sixteen  years  later,  on  a scaf- 
fold erected  within  the  castle,  the  famous  appeal  for  high 
treason  was  made  by  Henry  of  Lancaster,  Duke  of  Here- 
ford, against  Thomas  Mowbray,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the 
latter  of  whom  defied  his  accuser  to  mortal  combat.  The 
duel  was  stopped  by  the  king,  and  the  adversaries  ban- 
ished ; but  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  afterwards  returned  to 
depose  his  banislier.  About  the  same  time,  the  citizens 
of  London  having  refused  Richard  a large  loan,  he  sum- 
moned the  lord  mayor,  sheriffs,  aldermen,  and  twenty- 
four  of  the  principal  citizens,  to  his  presence,  and  after 
rating  them  soundly,  ordered  them  all  into  custody,  im- 
prisoning the  lord  mayor  in  the  castle.  In  this  reign, 
Geoffrey  Chaucer,  “the  father  of  English  poetry,”  was 
appointed  clerk  to  the  works  of  Saint  George’s  Chapel,  at 
a salary  of  two  shillings  per  day,  (a  sum  equal  to  £657  per 
annum  of  modern  money,)  with  the  same  arbitrary  power 
as  had  been  granted  to  previous  surveyors,  to  impress 
carpenters  and  masons.  Chaucer  did  not  retain  his  ap- 
pointments more  than  twenty  months,  and  was  succeeded 
by  John  Gedney. 

It  was  at  Windsor  that  Henry  the  Fourth,  scarcely  as- 
sured of  the  crown  he  had  seized,  received  intelligence  of 
a conspiracy  against  his  life  from  the  traitorous  Aumerle, 
who  purchased  his  own  safety  at  the  expense  of  his  con- 
federates. The  timely  warning  enabled  the  king  to  baffle 
the  design.  It  was  in  Windsor,  also,  that  the  children 
of  Mortimer,  Earl  of  March,  the  rightful  successor  to  the 


400 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


throne,  were  detained  as  hostages  for  their  father.  Lib- 
erated by  the  countess  dowager  of  Gloucester,  who  con- 
trived to  open  their  prison  door  with  false  keys,  the 
youthful  captives  escaped  to  the  marches  of  Wales,  where, 
however,  they  were  overtaken  by  the  emissaries  of  Henry, 
and  brought  back  to  their  former  place  of  confinement. 

A few  years  later,  another  illustrious  prisoner  was 
brought  to  Windsor — namely,  Prince  James,  the  son  of 
King  Robert  the  Third,  and  afterwards  James  the  First 
of  Scotland.  This  prince  remained  a captive  for  upwards 
of  eighteen  years ; not  being  released  till  1424,  in  the 
second  of  Henry  the  Sixth,  by  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  then 
regent.  James’s  captivity,  and  his  love  for  Jane  of  Beau- 
fort, daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  and  granddaugh- 
ter to  John  of  Gaunt,  to  whom  he  was  united,  have 
breathed  a charm  over  the  Round  Tower,  where  he  was 
confined ; and  his  memory,  like  that  of  the  chivalrous 
and  poetical  Surrey,  whom  he  resembled  in  character  and 
accomplishments,  will  be  ever  associated  with  it. 

In  the  “ King’s  Quair,”  the  royal  poet  has  left  an  ex- 
quisite picture  of  a garden  nook,  contrived  within  the 
dry  moat  of  the  dungeon : — 

“ Now  was  there  made,  fast  by  the  tower's  wall, 

A garden  faire,  and  in  the  corners  set 
An  arbour  green  with  wandis  long  and  small 
Railed  about,  and  so  with  leaves  beset 
Was  all  the  place,  and  hawthorn  hedges  knet, 

That  lyf  was  none,  walking  there  forbye, 

That  might  within  scarce  any  wight  espy. 

“ So  thick  the  branches  and  the  leaves  green 
Beshaded  all  the  alleys  that  there  were, 

And  midst  of  every  arbour  might  be  seen 
The  sharpe,  green,  sweet  juniper, 

Growing  so  fair  with  branches  here  and  there. 

That  as  it  seemed  to  a lyf  without 

The  boughs  did  spread  the  arbour  all  about.” 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


401 


And  he  thus  describes  the  first  appearance  of  the 
lovely  Jane,  and  the  effect  produced  upon  him  by  her 
charms : — 

“ And  therewith  cast  I down  mine  eye  again, 

Where  as  I saw  walking  under  the  tower, 

Full  secretly,  new  comyn  her  to  plain, 

The  fairest  and  the  freshest  younge  flower 
That  e’er  I saw,  methought,  before  that  hour  ; 

For  which  sudden  abate,  anon  did  start 
The  blood  of  all  my  body  to  my  heart.” 

Henry  the  Fifth  occasionally  kept  his  court  at  Windsor, 
and  in  1416  entertained  with  great  magnificence  the  Em- 
peror Sigismund,  who  brought  with  him  an  invaluable 
relic — the  heart  of  Saint  George,  which  he  bestowed  upon 
the  chapter.  The  emperor  was  at  the  same  time  invested 
with  the  order. 

In  1421,  the  unfortunate  Henry  the  Sixth  was  born 
within  the  castle ; and  in  1484,  he  was  interred  within  it. 


£02 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

COMPRISING  THE  FOURTH  EPOCH  IN  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 
CASTLE  ; AND  SHOWING  HOW  SAINT  GEORGE’S  CHAPEL 
WAS  REBUILT  BY  KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH. 

Finding  the  foundation  and  walls  of  Saint  George’s 
Chapel  much  dilapidated  and  decayed,  Edward  the 
Fourth  resolved  to  pull  down  the  pile,  and  build  a larger 
and  statelier  structure  in  its  place.  With  this  view,  he 
constituted  Richard  Beauchamp,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  sur- 
veyor of  the  works,  from  whose  designs  arose  the  present 
beautiful  edifice.  To  enable  the  Bishop  to  accomplish 
the  work,  power  was  given  him  to  remove  all  obstruc- 
tions, and  to  enlarge  the  space  by  the  demolition  of  the 
three  buildings  then  commonly  called  Clure’s  Tower, 
Berner’s  Tower,  and  the  Almoner’s  Tower. 

The  zeal  and  assiduity  with  which  Beauchamp  prose- 
cuted his  task  is  adverted  to  in  the  patent  of  his  appoint- 
ment to  the  office  of  Chancellor  of  the  Garter,  the 
preamble  whereof  recites,  “ that  out  of  mere  love  towards 
the  order,  he  had  given  himself  the  leisure  daily  to  attend 
the  advancement  and  progress  of  this  goodly  fabric.” 

The  chapel,  however,  was  not  completed  in  one  reign, 
or  by  one  architect.  Sir  Reginald  Bray,  prime-minister 
of  Henry  the  Seventh,  succeeded  Bishop  Beauchamp  as 
surveyor  of  the  works,  and  it  was  by  him  that  the  match- 
less roof  of  the  choir  and  other  parts  of  the  fabric  were 
built.  Indeed,  the  frequent  appearance  of  Bray’s  arms, 
sometimes  single,  sometimes  impaling  his  alliances,  in 
many  parts  of  the  ceiling  and  windows,  has  led  to  the 
supposition  that  he  himself  contributed  largely  to  the 
expense  of  the  work.  The  groined  ceiling  of  the  chapel 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


403 


was  not  commenced  till  the  twenty-seventh  year  of  the 
reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh,  when  the  pinnacles  of  the 
roof  were  decorated  with  vanes,  supported  by  gilt  figures 
of  lions,  antelopes,  greyhounds,  and  dragons, — the  want 
of  which  is  still  a detriment  to  the  external  beauty  of  the 
structure. 

“ The  main  vaulting  of  Saint  George’s  Chapel,”  says 
Mr.  Poynter,  “is  perhaps,  without  exception,  the  most 
beautiful  specimen  of  the  Gothic  stone  roof  in  existence  ; 
but  it  has  been  very  improperly  classed  with  those  of  the 
same  architectural  period  in  the  chapels  of  King’s  College, 
Cambridge,  and  Henry  the  Seventh,  at  Westminster. 
The  roofing  of  the  aisle  and  the  center  compartment  of  the 
body  of  the  building,  are  indeed  in  that  style,  but  the  vault 
of  the  nave  and  choir  differ  essentially  from  fan  vaulting, 
both  in  drawing  and  construction.  It  is,  in  fact,  a wagon- 
headed vault,  broken  by  Welsh  groins—  that  is  to  say, 
groins  which  cut  into  the  main  arch  below  the  apex.  It 
is  not  singular  in  the  principle  of  its  design,  but  it  is 
unique  in  its  proportions,  in  which  the  exact  mean  seems 
to  be  attained  between  the  poverty  and  monotony  of  a 
wagon-headed  ceiling,  and  the  ungraceful  effect  of  a mere 
groined  roof  with  a depressed  roof  of  large  span.  To 
which  may  be  added,  that  with  a richness  of  effect  scarcely 
if  at  all  inferior  to  fan  tracery,  it  is  free  from  those  abrupt 
junctions  of  the  lines  and  other  defects  of  drawing  inevi- 
table when  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  compartments  of 
fan  vaulting  differ  very  much,  of  which  King’s  College 
Chapel  exhibits  some  notable  instances.” 

Supported  by  these  exquisite  ribs  and  groins,  the  ceil- 
ing is  decorated  with  heraldic  insignia,  displaying  the 
arms  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  Edward  the  Third,  Edward 
the  Black  Prince,  Henry  the  Sixth,  Edward  the  Fourth, 
Henry  the  Seventh,  and  Henry  the  Eighth ; with  the 
arms  of  England  and  France  quartered,  the  holy  cross, 


404 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


the  shield  or  cross  of  Saint  George,  the  rose,  portcullis, 
lion  rampant,  unicorn,  fleur-de-lis,  dragon,  and  prince’s 
feathers,  together  with  the  arms  of  a multitude  of  noble 
families.  In  the  nave  are  emblazoned  the  arms  of  Henry 
the  Eighth,  and  of  several  knights- companions,  among 
which  are  those  of  Charles  the  Fifth,  Francis  the  First, 
and  Ferdinand,  Infant  of  Spain.  The  extreme  lightness 
and  graceful  proportions  of  the  pillars  lining  the  aisles 
contribute  greatly  to  the  effect  of  this  part  of  the  struc- 
ture. 

Beautiful,  however,  as  is  the  body  of  the  chapel,  it  is 
not  comparable  to  the  choir.  Here,  and  on  either  side, 
are  ranged  the  stalls  of  the  knights,  formerly  twenty-six 
in  number,  but  now  increased  to  thirty-two,  elaborately 
carved  in  black  oak,  and  covered  by  canopies  of  the 
richest  tabernacle- work,  supported  by  slender  pillars. 
On  the  pedestals  is  represented  the  history  of  the  Saviour, 
and  on  the  front  of  the  stalls,  at  the  west  end  of  the  choir, 
is  carved  the  legend  of  Saint  George ; while  on  the  out- 
side of  the  upper  seat  is  cut,  in  old  Saxon  characters,  the 
twentieth  psalm,  in  Latin.  On  the  canopies  of  the  stalls 
are  placed  the  mantle,  helmet,  coat,  and  sword  of  the 
knights- companions  ; and  above  them  are  hung  their  em- 
blazoned banners.  On  the  back  of  each  stall  are  fixed  small 
enameled  plates,  graven  with  the  titles  of  the  knights 
who  have  occupied  it.  The  ancient  stall  of  the  sovereign 
was  removed  in  1788,  and  a new  seat  erected. 

The  altar  was  formerly  adorned  with  costly  hangings 
of  crimson  velvet  and  gold,  but  these,  together  with  the 
consecrated  vessels,  of  great  value,  were  seized  by  order 
of  parliament  in  1642,  amid  the  general  plunder  of  the 
foundation.  The  service  of  the  altar  was  replaced  by 
Charles  the  Second. 

The  sovereign’s  stall  is  immediately  on  the  right  on  the 
entrance  to  the  choir,  and  the  prince’s  on  the  left.  The 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


405 


queen’s  closet  is  on  the  north  side,  above  the  altar.  Be- 
neath it  is  the  beautiful  and  elaborately- wrought  frame- 
work of  iron,  representing  a pair  of  gates  between  two 
Gothic  towers,  designed  as  a screen  to  the  tomb  of  Edward 
the  Fourth,  and  which,  though  popularly  attributed  to 
Quintin  Matsys,  has  with  more  justice  been  assigned  to 
Master  John  Tressilian. 

One  great  blemish  to  the  chapel  exists  in  the  window 
over  the  altar,  the  mullions  and  tracery  of  which  have 
been  removed  to  make  way  for  dull,  colorless  copies  in 
painted  glass  of  West’s  designs.  Instead  of 

“ blushing  with  the  blood  of  kings, 

And  twilight  saints,  and  dim  emblazonings — 

steeping  the  altar  in  rich  suffusion,  checkering  the  walls 
and  pavement  with  variegated  hues,  and  filling  the  whole 
sacred  spot  with  a warm  and  congenial  glow — these 
panes  produce  a cold,  cheerless,  and  most  disagreeable 
effect. 

The  removal  of  this  objectionable  feature,  and  the  res- 
toration of  framework  and  compartments  in  the  style  of 
the  original,  and  enriched  with  ancient  mellow-toned  and 
many-hued  glass  in  keeping  with  the  place,  are  absolutely 
indispensable  to  the  completeness  and  unity  of  character 
of  the  chapel.  Two  clerestory  windows  at  the  east  end 
of  the  choir,  adjoining  the  larger  window,  have  been  re- 
cently filled  with  stained  glass  in  much  better  taste. 

The  objections  above  made  may  be  urged  with  equal 
force  against  the  east  and  west  windows  of  the  south 
aisle  of  the  body  of  the  fane,  and  the  west  window  of 
the  north  aisle.  The  glorious  west  window,  composed  of 
eighty  compartments,  embellished  with  figures  of  kings, 
patriarchs,  and  bishops,  together  with  the  insignia  of  the 
Garter  and  the  arms  of  prelates, — the  wreck  gathered 
from  all  the  other  windows, — and  streaming  with  the  ra- 


406 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


diance  of  the  setting  sun  upon  the  broad  nave  and  grace- 
ful pillars  of  the  aisles, — this  superb  window — an  admi- 
rable specimen  of  the  architecture  of  the  age  in  which  it 
was  designed — had  well-nigh  shared  the  fate  of  the 
others,  and  was  only  preserved  from  desecration  by  the 
circumstance  of  the  death  of  the  glass-painter.  The 
mullions  of  this  window  being  found  much  decayed,  were 
carefully  and  consistently  restored,  during  the  last  year, 
by  Mr.  Blore,  and  the  ancient  stained  glass  replaced. 

Not  only  does  Saint  George’s  Chapel  form  a house  of 
prayer  and  a temple  of  chivalry,  but  it  is  also  the  burial- 
place  of  kings.  At  the  east  end  of  the  north  aisle  of  the 
choir  is  a plain  flag,  bearing  the  words  : — 

Iking  Ebwarb  irillTIF  attb  bis  ®ueen  jEU3abetb  TOtDvulle. 

The  coat  of  mail,  and  surcoat,  decorated  with  rubies  and 
precious  stones,  together  with  other  rich  trophies  once 
ornamenting  this  tomb,  were  carried  off  by  the  parliamen- 
tary plunderers.  Edward’s  queen,  Elizabeth  Woodville,  it 
was  thought  slept  beside  him  ; but  when  the  royal  tomb 
was  opened  in  1789,  and  the  two  coffins  within  it  exam- 
ined, the  smaller  one  was  found  empty.  The  Queen’s 
body  was  subsequently  discovered  in  a stone  coffin  by 
the  workmen  employed  in  excavating  the  vault  for  George 
the  Third.  Edward’s  coffin  was  seven  feet  long,  and  con- 
tained a perfect  skeleton.  On  the  opposite  aisle,  near 
the  choir  door,  as  already  mentioned,  rests  the  ill-fated 
Henry  the  Sixth,  beneath  an  arch  sumptuously  embel- 
lished by  Henry  the  Eighth,  on  the  keystone  of  which 
may  still  be  seen  his  arms,  supported  by  two  antelopes 
connected  by  a golden  chain.  Henry’s  body  was  removed 
from  Chertsey,  where  it  was  first  interred,  and  reburied 
in  1484,  with  much  solemnity,  in  this  spot.  Such  was 
the  opinion  entertained  of  his  sanctity  that  miracles  were 
supposed  to  be  wrought  upon  his  tomb,  and  Henry  the 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


407 


Seventh  applied  to  have  him  canonized,  but  the  demands 
of  the  pope  were  too  exorbitant.  The  proximity  of  Henry 
and  Edward  in  death  suggested  the  following  lines  to 
Pope : — 

“Here,  o’er  the  martyr-king  the  marble  weeps, 

And  fast  beside  him,  once  fear’d  Edward  sleeps ; 

The  grave  unites,  where  e’en  the  grave  finds  rest, 

And  mingled  lie  the  oppressor  and  the  opprest.” 

In  the  royal  vault  in  the  choir  repose  Henry  the  Eighth 
and  his  third  queen,  Jane  Seymour,  together  with  the 
martyred  Charles  the  Frst. 

Space  only  permits  the  hasty  enumeration  of  the  differ- 
ent beautiful  chapels  and  chantries  adorning  this  splendid 
fane.  These  are,  Lincoln  Chapel,  near  which  Richard 
Beauchamp,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  is  buried ; Oxenbridge 
Chapel ; Aid  worth  Chapel ; Bray  Chapel,  where  rests  the 
body  of  Sir  Reginald  de  Bray,  the  architect  of  the  pile  ; 
Beaufort  Chapel,  containing  sumptuous  monuments  of 
the  noble  family  of  that  name  ; Rutland  Chapel  ; Hast- 
ings Chapel ; and  Urswick  Chapel,  in  which  is  now  placed 
the  cenotaph  of  the  Princess  Charlotte,  sculptured  by 
Matthew  Wyatt. 

In  a vault  near  the  sovereign’s  stall  lie  the  remains  of 
the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  died  in  1805,  and  of  his 
duchess,  who  died  two  years  after  him.  And  near  the 
entrance  of  the  south  door  is  a slab  of  gray  marble,  be- 
neath which  lies  one  who  in  his  day  filled  the  highest 
offices  of  the  realm,  and  was  the  brother  of  a king  and 
the  husband  of  a queen.  It  is  inscribed  with  the  great 
name  of  Charles  Braxdox. 

At  the  east  end  of  the  north  aisle  is  the  chapter-house, 
in  which  is  a portrait  and  the  sword  of  state  of  Edward 
the  Third. 

Adjoining  the  chapel,  on  the  east,  stands  the  royal 


408 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


tomb-house.  Commenced  by  Henry  the  Seventh  as  a 
mausoleum,  but  abandoned  for  the  chapel  in  Westmins^ 
ter  Abbey,  this  structure  was  granted  by  Henry  the 
Eighth  to  Wolsey,  who  intending  it  as  a place  of  burial 
for  himself,  erected  within  it  a sumptuous  monument  of 
black  and  white  marble,  with  eight  large  brazen  columns 
placed  around  it,  and  four  others  in  the  form  of  candle- 
sticks. At  the  time  of  the  cardinal’s  disgrace,  when  the 
building  reverted  to  the  crown,  the  monument  was  far 
advanced  towards  completion — the  vast  sum  of  4280 
ducats  having  been  paid  to  Benedetto,  a Florentine  sculp- 
tor, for  work,  and  nearly  four  hundred  pounds  for  gilding 
part  of  it.  This  tomb  was  stripped  of  its  ornaments  and 
destroyed  by  the  parliamentary  rebels  in  1646  ; but  the 
black  marble  sarcophagus  forming  part  of  it,  and  intended 
as  a receptacle  for  Wolsey ’s  own  remains,  escaped  de- 
struction, and  now  covers  the  grave  of  Nelson  in  a crypt 
of  Saint  Paul’s  cathedral. 

Henry  the  Eighth  was  not  interred  in  this  mausoleum, 
but  in  Saint  George’s  Chapel,  as  has  just  been  mentioned, 
and  as  he  himself  directed,  “ mid-way  between  the  state 
and  the  high  altar.”  Full  instructions  were  left  by  him 
for  the  erection  of  a monument,  which,  if  it  had  been 
completed,  would  have  been  truly  magnificent.  The 
pavement  was  to  be  of  oriental  stones,  with  two  great 
steps  upon  it  of  the  same  material.  The  two  pillars  of 
the  church  between  which  the  tomb  was  to  be  set  were 
to  be  covered  with  bas-reliefs,  representing  the  chief 
events  of  the  Old  Testament,  angels  with  gilt  garlands, 
fourteen  images  of  the  prophets,  the  apostles,  the  evan- 
gelists, and  the  four  doctors  of  the  church,  and  at  the  foot 
of  every  image  a little  child  with  a basket  full  of  red  and 
white  roses  enameled  and  gilt.  Between  these  pillars, 
on  a basement  of  white  marble,  the  epitaphs  of  the  king 
and  queen  were  to  be  written  in  letters  of  gold.  On 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


409 


the  same  basement  were  to  be  two  tombs  of  black  touch- 
stone supporting  the  images  of  the  king  and  queen,  not 
as  dead,  but  sleeping,  “ to  show,”  so  runs  the  order,  “ that 
famous  princes  leaving  behind  them  great  fame  do  never 
die.”  On  the  right  hand  at  either  corner  of  the  tomb 
was  to  be  an  angel  holding  the  king’s  arms,  with  a great 
candlestick,  and  at  the  opposite  corners,  two  other  angels 
bearing  the  queen’s  arms  and  candlesticks.  Between  the 
two  black  tombs  was  to  rise  a high  basement  like  a sepul- 
cher, surmounted  by  a statue  of  the  king  on  horseback, 
in  armor — both  figures  to  be  “ of  the  whole  stature  of  a 
goodly  man  and  a large  horse.”  Over  this  statue  was 
to  be  a canopy,  like  a triumphal  arch,  of  white  marble, 
garnished  with  oriental  stones  of  divers  colors,  with  the 
story  of  Saint  John  the  Baptist  wrought  in  gilt  brass 
upon  it,  with  a crowning  group  of  the  Father  holding  the 
soul  of  the  king  in  his  right  hand  and  the  soul  of  the  queen 
in  his  left,  and  blessing  them.  The  height  of  the  monu- 
ment was  to  be  twenty-eight  feet.  The  number  of  statues 
was  to  be  one  hundred  and  thirty-four,  with  forty-four 
bas-reliefs.  It  would  be  matter  of  infinite  regret  that 
this  great  design  was  never  executed,  if  its  destruction  by 
the  parliamentary  plunderers  would  not  in  that  case  have 
been,  also,  matter  of  certainty. 

Charles  the  First  intended  to  fit  up  this  structure  as  a 
royal  mausoleum,  but  was  diverted  from  the  plan  by  the 
outbreak  of  the  civil  war.  It  was  afterwards  used  as  a 
chapel  by  James  the  Second,  and  mass  was  publicly  per- 
formed in  it.  The  ceiling  was  painted  by  Verrio,  and  the 
walls  highly  ornamented  ; but  the  decorations  were 
greatly  injured  by  the  fury  of  an  anti- catholic  mob,  who 
assailed  the  building,  and  destroyed  its  windows,  on  the 
occasion  of  a banquet  given  to  the  pope’s  nuncio  by  the 
king.  In  this  state  it  continued  till  the  commencement 
of  the  present  century,  when  the  exterior  was  repaired 


410 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


by  George  the  Third,  and  a vault,  seventy  feet  in  length, 
twenty-eight  in  width,  and  fourteen  in  depth,  constructed 
within  it,  for  the  reception  of  the  royal  family.  Cata- 
combs formed  of  massive  octangular  pillars,  and  sup- 
porting ranges  of  shelves,  line  the  walls  on  either  side. 
At  the  eastern  extremity,  there  are  five  niches,  and  in  the 
middle  twelve  low  tombs.  A subterranean  passage  leads 
from  the  vault  beneath  the  choir  of  Saint  George’s  altar 
to  the  sepulcher.  Within  it  are  deposited  the  bodies  of 
George  the  Third  and  Queen  Charlotte,  the  Princesses 
Amelia  and  Charlotte,  the  Dukes  of  Kent  and  York,  and 
the  two  last  sovereigns,  George  the  Fourth  and  William 
the  Fourth. 

But  to  return  to  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  from 
which  the  desire  to  bring  down  the  history  of  Saint 
George’s  Chapel  to  the  present  time  has  led  to  the  fore- 
going digression.  About  the  same  time  that  the  chapel 
was  built,  habitations  for  the  dean  and  canons  were 
erected  on  the  northeast  of  the  fane,  while  another  range 
of  dwellings  for  the  minor  canons  was  built  at  its  west 
end,  disposed  in  the  form  of  a fetter-lock,  one  of  the 
badges  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  and  since  called  the  Horse- 
shoe Cloisters.  The  ambulatory  of  these  cloisters  once 
displayed  a fine  specimen  of  the  timber  architecture  of 
Henry  the  Seventh’s  time,  when  they  were  repaired,  but 
little  of  their  original  character  can  now  be  discerned. 

In  1482,  Edward,  desirous  of  advancing  his  popularity 
with  the  citizens  of  London,  invited  the  lord  mayor  and 
aldermen  to  Windsor,  where  he  feasted  them  royally, 
and  treated  them  to  the  pleasures  of  the  chase,  sending 
them  back  to  their  spouses,  loaded  with  game. 

In  1484,  Richard  the  Third  kept  the  feast  of  Saint 
George  at  Windsor,  and  the  building  of  the  chapel  was 
continued  during  his  reign. 

The  picturesque  portion  of  the  castle  on  the  north  side 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


411 


of  the  upper  ward,  near  the  Norman  gateway,  and  which 
is  one  of  the  noblest  Gothic  features  of  the  proud  pile, 
was  built  by  Henry  the  Seventh,  whose  name  it  still 
bears.  The  side  of  this  building  looking  towards  the 
terrace  was  originally  decorated  with  two  rich  windows, 
but  one  of  them  has  disappeared,  and  the  other  has  suf- 
fered much  damage. 

In  1500,  the  deanery  was  rebuilt  by  Dean  Urswick. 
At  the  lower  end  of  the  court,  adjoining  the  canons’ 
houses  behind  the  Horse-shoe  Cloisters,  stands  the  Colle- 
giate Library,  the  date  of  which  is  uncertain,  though  it 
may  perhaps  be  referred  to  this  period.  The  establish- 
ment was  enriched  in  later  times  by  a valuable  library, 
bequeathed  to  it  by  the  Earl  of  Ranelagh. 

In  1506,  Windsor  was  the  scene  of  great  festivity,  in 
consequence  of  the  unexpected  arrival  of  Philip,  king  of 
Castile,  and  his  queen,  who  had  been  driven  by  stress  of 
weather  into  Weymouth.  The  royal  visitors  remained 
for  several  weeks  at  the  Castle,  during  which  it  continued 
a scene  of  revelry,  intermixed  with  the  sports  of  the  chase. 
At  the  same  time,  Philip  was  invested  with  the  order  of 
the  Garter,  and  installed  in  the  chapel  of  Saint  George. 

The  great  gateway  to  the  lower  ward  was  built  in  the 
commencement  of  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth.  It  is 
decorated  with  his  arms  and  devices — the  rose  portcullis, 
and  fleur-de-lis,  and  with  the  bearings  of  Catherine  of 
Aragon.  In  1522,  Charles  the  Fifth  visited  Windsor, 
and  was  installed  Knight  of  the  Garter. 

During  a period  of  dissension  in  the  council,  Edward 
the  Sixth  was  removed  for  safety  to  Windsor,  by  the 
lord  protector,  Somerset ; and  here,  at  a later  period,  the 
youthful  monarch  received  a letter  from  the  council  urg- 
ing the  dismissal  of  Somerset,  with  which,  by  the  advice 
of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  he  complied. 

In  this  reign,  an  undertaking  to  convey  water  to  the 


412 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


castle  from  Blackmore  Park,  near  Wingfield,  a distance 
of  five  miles,  was  commenced,  though  it  was  not  till  1555, 
in  the  time  of  Mary,  that  the  plan  was  accomplished, 
when  a pipe  was  brought  into  the  upper  ward,  “ and 
there  the  water  plenteously  did  rise  thirteen  feet  high.” 
In  the  middle  of  the  court  was  erected  a magnificent 
fountain,  consisting  of  a canopy  raised  upon  columns, 
gorgeously  decorated  with  heraldic  ornaments,  and  sur- 
mounted by  a great  vane,  with  the  arms  of  Philip  and 
Mary  impaled  upon  it,  and  supported  by  a lion  and  an 
eagle,  gilt  and  painted.  The  water  was  discharged  by  a 
great  dragon,  one  of  the  supporters  of  the  Tudor  arms, 
into  the  cistern  beneath,  whence  it  was  conveyed  by 
pipes  to  every  part  of  the  castle. 

Mary  held  her  court  at  Windsor  soon  after  her  union 
with  Philip  of  Spain.  About  this  period,  the  old  habita- 
tions of  the  alms-knights  on  the  south  side  of  the  lower 
quadrangle  were  taken  down,  and  others  erected  in  their 
stead. 

Fewer  additions  were  made  to  Windsor  Castle  by  Eliza- 
beth than  might  have  been  expected  from  her  predilection 
for  it  as  a place  of  residence.  She  extended  and  widened 
the  north  terrace,  where,  when  lodging  within  the  castle, 
she  daily  took  exercise,  whatever  might  be  the  weather. 
The  terrace  at  this  time,  as  it  is  described  by  Paul  Hentz- 
ner,  and  as  it  appears  in  Norden’s  view,  was  a sort  of 
balcony  projecting  beyond  the  scarp  of  the  hill,  and  sup- 
ported by  great  cantilevers  of  wood. 

In  1576,  the  gallery  still  bearing  her  name,  and  lying 
between  Henry  the  Seventh’s  buildings  and  the  Norman 
Tower,  was  erected  by  Elizabeth.  This  portion  of  the 
castle  had  the  good  fortune  to  escape  the  alterations  and 
modifications  made  in  almost  every  other  part  of  the 
upper  ward  after  the  restoration  of  Charles  the  Second. 
It  now  forms  the  library.  A large  garden  was  laid  out 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


413 


by  the  same  queen,  and  a small  gateway  on  Castle-hill, 
built  by  her — which  afterwards  became  one  of  the  greatest 
obstructions  to  the  approach,  and  it  was  taken  down  by 
George  the  Fourth. 

Elizabeth  often  hunted  in  the  parks,  and  exhibited  her 
skill  in  archery,  which  was  by  no  means  inconsiderable, 
ut  the  butts.  Her  fondness  for  dramatic  performances 
likewise  induced  her  to  erect  a stage  within  the  castle,  on 
Which  plays  and  interludes  were  performed.  And  to  her 
admiration  of  the  character  of  Falstaff,  and  her  love  of 
the  locality,  the  world  is  indebted  for  the  “ Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor.” 

James  the  First  favored  Windsor  as  much  as  his  prede- 
cessors ; caroused  within  its  halls,  and  chased  the  deer 
in  its  parks.  Christian  the  Fourth  of  Denmark  was 
sumptuously  entertained  by  him  at  Windsor.  In  this 
reign  a curious  dispute  occurred  between  the  king  and  the 
dean  and  chapter  respecting  the  repair  of  a breach  in  the 
wall,  which  was  not  brought  to  issue  for  three  years, 
when,  after  much  argument,  it  was  decided  in  favor  of 
the  clergy. 

Little  was  done  at  Windsor  by  Charles  the  First  until 
the  tenth  year  of  his  reign,  when  a banqueting-house 
erected  by  Elizabeth  was  taken  down,  and  the  magnificent 
fountain  constructed  by  Queen  Mary  demolished.  Two 
years  afterwards,  “ a pyramid  or  lantern,”  with  a clock,  bell, 
and  dial,  was  ordered  to  be  set  up  in  the  front  of  the 
castle,  and  a balcony  was  erected  before  the  room  where 
Henry  the  Sixth  was  born. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  year  1642,  Charles  retired  to 
Windsor,  to  shield  himself  from  the  insults  of  the  popu- 
lace, and  was  followed  by  a committee  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  who  prevailed  upon  him  to  desist  from  the 
prosecution  of  the  impeached  members.  On  the  23d  of 
October,  in  the  same  year,  Captain  Fogg,  at  the  head  of 


414 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


a parliamentarian  force,  demanded  the  keys  of  the  college- 
treasury,  and  not  being  able  to  obtain  them,  forced  open 
the  doors,  and  carried  off  the  whole  of  the  plate. 

The  plunder  of  the  college  was  completed  by  Yane,  the 
parliamentary  governor  of  the  castle,  who  seized  upon  the 
whole  of  the  furniture  and  decorations  of  the  choir ; 
rifled  the  tomb  of  Edward  the  Fourth  ; stripped  off  all 
the  costly  ornaments  from  Wolsey’s  tomb;  defaced  the 
emblazonings  over  Henry  the  Sixth’s  grave ; broke  the 
rich  painted  glass  of  the  windows,  and  wantonly  de- 
stroyed the  exquisite  woodwork  of  the  choir. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  year  1648,  the  ill-fated  Charles 
was  brought  a prisoner  to  Windsor,  where  he  remained 
while  preparations  were  made  for  the  execrable  tragedy 
soon  afterwards  enacted.  After  the  slaughter  of  the 
martyr-monarch,  the  castle  became  the  prison  of  the  Earl 
of  Norwich,  Lord  Capel,  and  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  and 
other  royalists  and  cavaliers. 

Cromwell  frequently  resided  within  the  castle,  and 
often  took  a moody  and  distrustful  walk  upon  the  terrace. 
It  was  during  the  Protectorate,  in  1677,  that  the  ugly 
buildings,  appropriated  to  the  naval  knights,  standing 
between  the  Garter  Tower  and  Chancellor’s  Tower,  were 
erected  by  Sir  Francis  Crane. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


415 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CONTAINING  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  CASTLE  FROM  THE  REIGN 
OF  CHARLES  THE  SECOND  TO  THAT  OF  GEORGE  THE  THIRD 

WITH  A FEW  PARTICULARS  CONCERNING  THE  PARKS 

AND  THE  FOREST. 

On  the  Restoration,  the  castle  resumed  its  splendor, 
and  presented  a striking  contrast  to  the  previous  gloomy 
period.  The  terrace,  with  its  festive  groups,  resembled  a 
picture  by  Watteau;  the  courts  resounded  with  laughter; 
and  the  velvet  sod  of  the  Home  Park  was  as  often  pressed 
by  the  foot  of  frolic  beauty  as  by  that  of  the  tripping 
deer. 

Seventeen  state  apartments  were  erected  by  Sir  Chris- 
topher Wren,  under  the  direction  of  Sir  John  Denham ; 
the  ceilings  were  painted  by  Yerrio ; and  the  walls  dec- 
orated with  exquisite  carvings  by  Grinling  Gibbons.  A 
grand  staircase  was  added  at  the  same  time.  Most  of 
the  chambers  were  hung  with  tapestry,  and  all  adorned 
with  pictures  and  costly  furniture.  The  addition  made 
to  the  castle  by  Charles  was  the  part  of  the  north  front, 
then  called  the  “Star  Building,”  from  the  star  of  the 
order  of  the  Garter  worked  in  colors  in  the  front  of  it, 
but  now  denominated  the  “ Stuart  Building,”  extending 
eastward,  along  the  terrace  from  Henry  the  Seventh’s 
building,  one  hundred  and  seventy  feet.  In  1676,  the 
ditch  was  filled  up,  and  the  terrace  carried  along  the 
south  and  east  fronts  of  the  castle. 

Meanwhile,  the  orginal  character  of  the  castle  was  com- 
pletely destroyed  and  Italianized.  The  beautiful  and 
picturesque  irregularities  of  the  walls  were  removed ; the 
towers  shaved  off ; the  windows  transformed  into  common- 


416 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


place  circular-headed  apertures.  And  so  the  castle  re- 
mained for  more  than  a century. 

Edward  the  Third’s  Tower,  indifferently  called  the 
Earl  Marshal’s  Tower  and  the  Devil  Tower,  and  used  as 
a place  of  confinement  for  state  prisoners,  was  now  allotted 
to  the  maids  of  honor.  It  was  intended  by  Charles  to 
erect  a monument  in  honor  of  his  martyred  father  on  the 
site  of  the  Tomb-house,  which  he  proposed  to  remove, 
and  70,000Z.  were  voted  by  parliament  for  this  purpose. 
The  design,  however,  was  abandoned  under  the  plea  that 
the  body  could  not  be  found,  though  it  was  perfectly  well 
known  where  it  lay.  The  real  motive  probably  was  that 
Charles  had  already  spent  the  money. 

In  1680,  an  equestrian  statue  of  Charles  the  Second, 
executed  by  Strada,  at  the  expense  of  Tobias  Rustat, 
formerly  housekeeper  at  Hampton  Court ; was  placed  in 
the  center  of  the  upper  ward.  It  now  stands  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  same  court.  The  sculptures  on  the  pedestal 
were  designed  by  Grinling  Gibbons  ; and  Horace  Walpole 
pleasantly  declared  that  the  statue  had  no  other  merit 
than  to  attract  attention  to  them. 

In  old  times,  a road,  forming  a narrow  irregular  avenue* 
ran  through  the  woods  from  the  foot  of  the  castle  to  Snow 
Hill.  But  this  road  having  been  neglected,  during  a long 
series  of  years,  the  branches  of  the  trees  and  underwood 
had  so  much  encroached  upon  it  as  to  render  it  wholly 
impassable.  A grand  avenue,  240  feet  wide  was  planned 
by  Charles  in  its  place;  and  the  magnificent  approach 
called  the  Long  Walk  laid  out  and  planted. 

The  only  material  incident  connected  with  the  castle 
during  the  reign  of  James  the  Second  has  been  already 
related. 

Windsor  was  not  so  much  favored  as  Hampton  Court 
by  William  the  Third,  though  he  contemplated  alterations 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  417 

within  it  during  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  which  it  may- 
be matter  of  rejoicing  were  never  accomplished. 

Queen  Anne’s  operations  were  chiefly  directed  towards 
the  parks,  in  improving  which  nearly  40,000?.  were  ex- 
pended. It  1707,  the  extensive  avenue  running  almost 
parallel  with  the  Long  Walk,  and  called  the  “ Queen’s 
Walk,”  was  planted  by  her  ; and  three  years  after  wards* 
a carriage  road  was  formed  through  the  Long  Walk.  A 
garden  was  also  planned  on  the  north  side  of  the  castle. 
In  this  reign,  Sir  James  Thornhill  commenced  painting 
Charles  the  Second’s  staircase  with  designs  from  Ovid’s 
Metamorphoses,  but  did  not  complete  his  task  till  after 
the  accession  of  George  the  First.  This  staircase  was  re- 
moved in  1800,  to  make  way  for  the  present  Gothic 
entrance  erected  by  the  elder  Wyatt. 

The  first  two  monarchs  of  the  house  of  Hanover  rarely 
used  Windsor  as  a residence,  preferring  Hampton  Court 
and  Kensington;  and  even  George  the  Third  did  not 
actually  live  in  the  Castle,  but  in  the  Queen’s  Lodge — a 
large  detached  building,  with  no  pretension  to  architec- 
tural beauty,  which  he  himself  erected  opposite  the  south 
terrace,  at  a cost  of  nearly  44,000?.  With  most  praise- 
worthy zeal,  and  almost  entirely  at  his  own  expense,  this 
monarch  undertook  the  restoration  of  Saint  George’s 
Chapel.  The  work  was  commenced  in  1787,  occupied 
three  years,  and  was  executed  by  Mr.  Emlyn,  a local 
architect.  The  whole  building  was  re-paved,  a new  altar- 
screen  and  organ  added,  and  the  carving  restored. 

In  1796,  Mr.  James  Wyatt  was  appointed  surveyor- 
general  of  the  royal  buildings,  and  effected  many  internal 
arrangements.  Externally,  he  restored  Wren’s  round- 
headed  windows  to  their  original  form,  and  at  the  same 
time  gothicized  a large  portion  of  the  north  and  south 
sides  of  the  upper  ward. 

Before  proceeding  further,  a word  must  be  said  about 


418 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


the  parks.  The  Home  Park,  which  lies  on  the  east  and 
north  sides  of  the  castle,  is  about  four  miles  in  circum- 
ference, and  was  enlarged  and  enclosed  with  a brick  wall 
by  William  the  Third.  On  the  east,  and  nearly  on  the 
site  of  the  present  sunk  garden,  a bowling-green,  was 
laid  out  by  Charles  the  Second.  Below,  on  the  north, 
were  Queen  Anne’s  gardens,  since  whose  time  the  de- 
clivity of  the  hill  has  been  planted  with  forest  trees.  At 
the  east  angle  of  the  north  terrace  are  the  beautiful  slopes, 
with  a path  skirting  the  north  side  of  the  Home  Park, 
and  leading  through  charming  plantations  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  royal  farm  and  dairy,  the  ranger’s  lodge,  and 
the  kennel  for  the  queen’s  harriers.  This  park  contains 
many  noble  trees ; and  the  grove  of  elms  in  the  southeast, 
near  the  spot  where  the  scathed  oak  assigned  to  Herne 
stands,  is  traditionally  asserted  to  have  been  a favorite 
walk  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  It  still  retains  her  name. 

The  Great  Park  is  approached  by  the  magnificent 
avenue,  called  the  Long  Walk,  laid  out,  as  has  been 
stated,  by  Charles  the  Second,  and  extending  to  the  foot 
of  Snow  Hill,  the  summit  of  which  is  crowned  by  the 
colossal  equestrian  statue  of  George  the  Third,  by  West- 
macott.  Not  far  from  this  point  stands  Cumberland 
Lodge,  which  derives  its  name  from  William,  Duke  of 
Cumberland,  to  whom  it  was  granted  in  1744.  According 
to  Norden’s  survey,  in  1607,  this  park  contained  8050 
acres ; but  when  surveyed  by  George  the  Third,  it  was 
found  to  consist  of  8800  acres,  of  which  200  were  covered 
with  water.  At  that  time,  the  park  was  overgrown  with 
fern  and  rushes,  and  abounded  in  bogs  and  swamps, 
which  in  many  places  were  dangerous  and  almost  im- 
passable. It  contained  about  three  thousand  head  of 
deer  in  bad  condition.  The  park  has  since  been  thor- 
oughly drained,  smoothed,  and  new  planted  in  parts  ; and 
two  farms  have  been  introduced  upon  it,  under  the  diree- 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  419 

tion  of  Mr.  Kent,  at  which  the  Flemish  and  Norfolk  modes 
of  husbandry  have  been  successfully  practised. 

Boasting  every  variety  of  forest  scenery,  and  com- 
manding from  its  knolls  and  acclivities  magnificent  views 
of  the  castle,  the  Great  Park  is  traversed  in  all  directions, 
by  green  drives  threading  its  long  vistas,  or  crossing  its 
open  glades,  laid  out  by  George  the  Fourth.  Amid  the 
groves  at  the  back  of  Spring  Hill,  in  a charmingly- 
sequestered  situation,  stands  a small  private  chapel,  built 
in  the  Gothic  style,  and  which  was  used  as  a place  of 
devotion  by  George  the  Fourth  during  the  progress  of  the 
improvements  at  the  castle,  and  is  sometimes  attended  by 
the  present  queen. 

Not  the  least  of  the  attractions  of  the  park  is  Virginia 
Water,  with  its  bright  and  beautiful  expanse,  its  cincture 
of  green  banks,  soft  and  smooth  as  velvet,  its  screen  of 
noble  woods,  its  Chinese  fishing-temple,  its  frigates,  its 
ruins,  its  cascade,  cave,  and  Druidical  temple,  its  obelisk 
and  bridges,  with  numberless  beauties  besides  which  it 
would  be  superfluous  to  describe  here.  This  artificial 
mere  covers  pretty  nearly  the  same  surface  of  ground  as 
that  occupied  by  the  great  lake  of  olden  times. 

Windsor  Forest  once  comprehended  a circumference  of 
a hundred  and  twenty  miles,  and  comprised  part  of  Buck- 
inghamshire, a considerable  portion  of  Surrey,  and  the 
whole  southeast  side  of  Berkshire,  as  far  as  Hungerford. 
On  the  Surrey  side,  it  included  Cobham  and  Chertsey, 
and  extended  along  the  side  of  the  Wey,  which  marked 
its  limits  as  far  as  Guildford.  In  the  reign  of  James 
the  First,  when  it  was  surveyed  by  Nor  den,  its  circuit 
was  estimated  at  seventy-seven  miles  and  a half,  exclu- 
sive of  the  liberties  extending  into  Buckinghamshire. 
There  were  fifteen  walks  within  it,  each  under  the  charge 
of  a head  keeper,  and  the  whole  contained  upwards  of 
three  thousand  head  of  deer.  It  is  now  almost  wholly 
enclosed. 


,420 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  LAST  GKEAT  EPOCH  IN  THE  HISTOKY  OF  THE  CASTLE. 

A pkince  of  consummate  taste  and  fine  conceptions, 
George  the  Fourth  meditated,  and  what  is  better,  accom- 
plished, the  restoration  of  the  castle  to  more  than  its 
original  grandeur.  He  was  singularly  fortunate  in  his 
architect.  Sir  Jeffry  Wyatville  was  to  him  what  Wil- 
liam of  Wykeham  had  been  to  Edward  the  Third.  All 
the  incongruities  of  successive  reigns  were  removed ; all, 
or  nearly  all,  the  injuries  inflicted  by  time  repaired ; and 
when  the  work  so  well  commenced  was  finished,  the 
structure  took  its  place  as  the  noblest  and  most  majestic 
palatial  residence  in  existence. 

To  enter  into  a full  detail  of  Wyatville’s  achievements 
is  beyond  the  scope  of  the  present  work ; but  a brief 
survey  may  be  taken  of  them.  Never  was  lofty  design 
more  fully  realized.  View  the  castle  on  the  north,  with 
its  grand  terrace  of  nearly  a thousand  feet  in  length,  and 
high  embattled  walls ; its  superb  fagade,  comprehending 
the  stately  Brunswick  Tower ; the  Cornwall  Tower,  with 
its  gorgeous  window;  George  the  Fourth’s  Tower,  in- 
cluding the  great  oriel  window  of  the  state  drawing- 
room ; the  restored  Stuart  buildings,  and  those  of  Henry 
the  Seventh  and  of  Elizabeth;  the  renovated  Norman 
Tower ; the  Powder  Tower,  with  the  line  of  walls  as  far 
as  the  Winchester  Tower ; — view  this,  and  then  turn  to 
the  east,  and  behold  another  front  of  marvelous  beauty 
extending  more  than  four  hundred  feet  from  north  to 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


421 


south,  and  displaying  the  Prince  of  Wales’  Tower,  the 
Chester,  Clarence,  and  Victoria  Towers — all  of  which  have 
been  raised  above  their  former  level,  and  enriched  by 
great  projecting  windows ; — behold  also  the  beautiful 
sunken  garden,  with  its  fountain  and  orangery,  its  flights 
of  steps,  and  charming  pentagonal  terrace ; — proceed  to 
the  south  front,  of  which  the  Victoria  Tower,  with  its 
machicolated  battlements  and  oriel  window,  forms  so 
superb  a feature  at  the  eastern  corner,  the  magnificent 
gateway  receiving  its  name  from  George  the  Fourth, 
flanked  by  the  York  and  Lancaster  Towers,  and  opening 
in  a continued  line  from  the  Long  Walk  ; — look  at  Saint 
George’s  Gate,  Edward  the  Third’s  renovated  tower,  and 
the  octagon  tower  beyond  it ; — look  at  all  these,  and  if 
they  fail  to  excite  a due  appreciation  of  the  genius  that 
conceived  them,  gaze  at  the  triumph  of  the  whole,  and 
which  lords  over  all  the  rest, — the  Round  Tower, — gaze 
at  it,  and  not  here  alone,  but  from  the  heights  of  the 
Great  Park,  from  the  vistas  of  the  Home  Park,  from  the 
bowers  of  Eton,  the  meads  of  Clewer  and  Datchet,  from 
the  Brocas,  the  gardens  of  the  naval  knights — from  a 
hundred  points ; — view  it  at  sunrise  when  the  royal 
standard  is  hoisted,  or  at  sunset  when  it  is  lowered,  near 
or  at  a distance,  and  it  will  be  admitted  to  be  the  work 
of  a prodigious  architect! 

But  Wyatville’s  alterations  have  not  yet  been  fully 
considered.  Pass  through  Saint  George’s  gateway,  and 
enter  the  grand  quadrangle  to  which  it  leads.  Let  your 
eye  wander  round  it,  beginning  with  the  inner  sides  of 
Edward  the  Third’s  Tower  and  George  the  Fourth’s  gate- 
way, and  proceeding  to  the  beautiful  private  entrance  to 
the  sovereign’s  apartments,  the  grand  range  of  windows 
of  the  eastern  corridor,  the  proud  towers  of  the  gateway 
to  the  household,  the  tall  pointed  windows  of  Saint 
George’s  Hall,  the  state  entrance  tower,  with  its  noble 


422 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


windows,  until  it  finally  rests  upon  the  Stuart  buildings 
and  King  John’s  Tower  at  the  angle  of  the  pile. 

Internally,  the  alterations  made  by  the  architect  have 
been  of  corresponding  splendor  and  importance.  Around 
the  south  and  east  sides  of  the  court  at  which  you  are 
gazing,  a spacious  corridor  has  been  constructed,  five  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  in  length,  and  connected  with  the  dif- 
ferent suites  of  apartments  on  these  sides  of  the  quadrangle; 
extensive  alterations  have  been  made  in  the  domestic 
offices;  the  state  apartments  have  been  repaired  and 
rearranged ; Saint  George’s  hall  has  been  enlarged  by  the 
addition  of  the  private  chapel,  (the  only  questionable 
change,)  and  restored  to  the  Gothic  style ; and  the  Water- 
loo  chamber  built  to  contain  George  the  Fourth’s  munifi- 
cent gift  to  the  nation  of  the  splendid  collection  of  portraits 
now  occupying  it. 

“ The  first  and  most  remarkable  characteristic  of  the 
operations  of  Sir  Jeffry  Wyatville  on  the  exterior,”  ob- 
serves Mr.  Poynter,  is  the  judgment  with  which  he  has 
preserved  the  castle  of  Edward  the  Third.  Some  additions 
have  been  made  to  it,  and  with  striking  effect — as  the 
Brunswick  Tower,  and  the  western  tower  of  George  the 
Fourth’s  gateway,  which  so  nobly  terminates  the  approach 
from  the  Great  Park.  The  more  modern  buildings  on  the 
north  side  have  also  been  assimilated  to  the  rest ; but  the 
architect  has  yielded  to  no  temptation  to  substitute  his 
own  design  for  that  of  William  of  Wykeham,  and  no 
small  difficulties  have  been  combated  and  overcome  for  the 
sake  of  preserving  the  outline  of  the  edifice,  and  maintain- 
ing the  towers  in  their  original  position.” 

The  Winchester  Tower,  originally  inhabited  by  Wil- 
liam of  Wykeham,  was  bestowed  upon  Sir  Jeffry  Wyat- 
ville as  a residence  by  George  the  Fourth;  and  on  the 
resignation  of  the  distinguished  architect,  was  continued 
to  him  for  life  by  the  present  queen. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


423 


The  works  within  the  castle  were  continued  during  the 
reign  of  William  the  Fourth,  and  at  its  close  the  actual 
cost  of  the  buildings  had  reached  the  sum  of  771,00QJ., 
and  it  has  been  asserted  that  the  general  expenditure  up 
to  the  present  time  has  exceeded  a million  and  a half  of 
money. 

The  view  from  the  summit  of  the  Round  Tower  is  be- 
yond description  magnificent,  and  commands  twelve 
counties — namely,  Middlesex,  Essex,  Hertford,  Berks, 
Bucks,  Oxford,  Wilts,  Hants,  Surrey,  Sussex,  Kent,  and 
Bedford ; while,  on  a clear  day,  the  dome  of  Saint  Paul’s 
may  be  distinguished  from  it.  This  tower  was  raised 
thirty- three  feet  by  Sir  Jeffry  Wyatville,  crowned  with  a 
machicolated  battlement,  and  surmounted  with  a flag- 
tower. 

The  circumference  of  the  castle  is  4180  feet ; the  length 
from  east  to  west,  1480  feet ; and  the  area,  exclusive  of 
the  terraces,  about  twelve  acres. 

For  the  present  the  works  are  suspended.  But  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  the  design  of  Sir  Jeffry  Wyatville  will  be 
fully  carried  out  in  the  lower  ward,  by  the  removal  of 
such  houses  on  the  north  as  would  lay  Saint  George’s 
chapel  open  to  view  from  this  side ; by  the  demolition  of 
the  old  incongruous  buildings  lying  westward  of  the  bas- 
tion near  the  hundred  steps ; by  the  opening  out  of  the 
pointed  roof  of  the  library  ; the  repair  and  reconstruction 
in  their  original  style  of  the  Curfew,  the  Garter,  and  the 
Salisbury  Towers  ; and  the  erection  of  a lower  terrace  ex- 
tending outside  the  castle,  from  the  bastion  above  men- 
tioned to  the  point  of  termination  of  the  improvements, 
and  accessible  from  the  town ; the  construction  of  which 
terrace  would  necessitate  the  removal  of  the  disfiguring 
and  encroaching  houses  on  the  east  side  of  Thames  Street. 
This  accomplished,  Crane’s  ugly  buildings  removed,  and 
the  three  western  towers  laid  open  to  the  court,  the 


424 


WINDSOR  CASTLE. 


Horse-shoe  Cloisters  consistently  repaired,  Windsor 
Castle  would  indeed  be  complete.  And  fervently  do  we 
hope  that  this  desirable  event  may  be  identified  with  the 
reign  of  Victoria  ! 


Gbus  ends  tbe  Sutb  :JBoofc  and  last  of  tbe  Chronicle  of 
TOinDsor  Castle. 


) 


